Journey Home
by Emmyloulabelle
Summary: Guinevere thought she had it all under control but then Fate decides to almost literally hand her the deed to the long forgotten land of Camelot. Modern AU
1. Prologue

Hello everybody! First time posting here. Also first full length fic. It's a story that has been rattling around in my brain ever since the Merlin finale. Bear with me as I'm just experimenting with the concept of posting here. I am beta-less as of right now, but I revise my writing constantly. Forgive me if I miss a tense change.

A few story warnings. I have rated this M because of language as of right now. But sexual themes will show up further down the line. Smut will happen. Battles will probably happen. Drama will happen.

Also, this is a primarily Gwen-centric fic, so be aware of that. Also, while it is a Modern AU, the plot is also considered a continuation of the series, so yeah, there's that.

Happy reading!

Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

"So."

"What, Merlin?"

"Do you think she knows?"

"Of course not. That would be impossible. The prophecy says-"

"I know, I know. But what if she did? Every time she's at the ruins probably gives her deja vu-"

"Merlin, the prophecy is quite clear."

"Yes, but since when have you known her to follow the rules?"

The old man sitting across from him, white hair cropped short, glares at him with wise old eyes behind thick spectacles.

"What? I'm just saying."

The old man folds his curled and aged hands over the table between them. He wears a fisherman's jacket, bright yellow and aged just like the man himself.

"She must not know of her past yet. Not entirely and not without proper preparation. The time of Albion is not upon us yet. In this era, her knowledge of the past without proper preparation could lead to Albion's and therefore Camalot's destruction... She must be ready. The war must be won at her hand. Arthur's return cannot happen without her help."

"Gaius. I promised I wouldn't approach her until the time is right. I'm not saying I'm going to right this minute! I'm just saying what if she already knows?"

The young man leans back in his seat, which almost throws him backwards. He gets his balance without a moment to spare. "Sure would make this whole situation easier."

"Drink your tea, Merlin."

"Hey, I'm technically older than you now, old man, so you don't have to order m-"

The cold, hard stare makes the young man lurch forward and grab his cup and down it in a flash. Getting up and brushing off his leather jacket and pulling a loose cap over his head, the young man drops a few crumpled bills on the cafe table.

"Same time, same place?"

"As always, Merlin. Good luck."

The young man pulls a messenger bag over his shoulder and walks out the cafe door. A flash and he is no longer a young boy but a tall, elderly man with long white hair and beard, walking like mist amongst the crowd.


	2. Chapter 1 - The Goodbye

First official chapter. These first couple chapters are dialogue heavy but hang in there. Let me know what you think. x Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

Dusk is settling on the streets of the city when Gwen arrives to her second shift at the corner cafe. Stumbling on the cobble bricks in her black pumps, she silently curses her manager for forcing all the waitresses into wearing them. At least the old bag didn't require them to wear skirts. She was fine in her slacks and white blouse, thank you very much. One more stumble and Gwen is sure she was going to fall. Again.

Gwen makes it right on time to clock in, waving at her friend Elena in the kitchen as she passes through. The blonde chef smirks and makes a face at her before waving back, her toque off kilter on her head. She pulls a large colander full of potatoes out from under the cutting table and went to wash them at the industrial sized sink.

"Didja get that intern position, Gwen? That letter was supposed to be in the post today, wasn't it?"

Gwen grins, pulling on a black apron and tying it while she sidles up close to her friend, preparing to wash her hands.

"Post was late today, but I got a call from my professor during my dinner break. He says he can't say for sure whether I've got it or not, you know? But he did say I should definitely prepare to start packing for colder weather."

Elena's face mirrors Gwen's own, wide full grin of excitement. Gwen's wavy brown curls bounced as she did a little hop of joy and giggle.

Molly, the manager, barks from the bar a moment later. "Gwen, tray for table 8 please! Make it quick!"

Gwen scrambles to take the tray another chef practically throws at her. She and Elena share an eye roll and the rest of Gwen's shift is a blur.

Elena catches her just after closing, when all the tables are wiped down and the chairs upturned over them. It's close to midnight and the lights of the town are neon and dim as rolls of clouds rumble overhead. The two walk down the empty street.

"We still on for Friday night? Or will that cut into your packing time?" As Elena nudges her, Gwen rummages for her phone as she walks, smiling knowingly at her friend.

"Friday is still a go. Classes are canceled for Saturday morning. I'll bring a dancing dress with me to work to change into. Hopefully my feet won't be killing me by the end of the night."

The corner where they usually part ways was coming up, just as Gwen reaches her phone and unlocks it. She sees multiple messages from Elyan and multiple other unknown numbers. _Odd._

Elena goes to part with Gwen, heading in the opposite direction while waving back at her.

"I'll see you Friday then, my lovely! Better yet, wear that red thing you wore to my brother's birthday party! The boys will love that!"

Gwen pulls her phone to her ear with a scrunch of her nose and an indignant grin, shooing Elena away into the night as she headed towards her own flat.

She stalls when Elena's giggles across the street fade away and Elyan's desperate voice clouds her senses from her phone.

"Call me back, Gwen. As soon as you get this." There's a pause on the other side of the line, a strangled gasp. "It's dad."

From farther down the lane, Elena notices her friend bend down, leaning against a street lamp. The sharp cry that follows echoes through the empty, foggy street. "Guinevere?"

* * *

The afternoon that Gwen's father Tomas passed away was a sunny, shining Wednesday afternoon. The funeral was set the following Sunday, an equally beautiful day in mid-July. The humidity in the air was slowly climbing when the service began and Gwen secretly wished to be anywhere but. The chosen black tee, skirt, and cardigan combination was making the service increasingly sweltering. Of all things, she also secretly wished she could chop off the entire length of her curly brown hair, in case it could give her even a remote relief from the beating sun.

She stands next to her step mother awkwardly, a bouquet of nondescript white flowers limp in her hands. Georgia is sobbing with great exaggeration into her bright pink handkerchief, clutching at Gwen's arm like a lifeline. Gwen restrains from wrenching it away. Elyan has a solid hand on her shoulder, and she knows that he's just trying to comfort her but the heaviness of it isn't welcome and is just causing the sweltering heat overhead to be just at the point of overwhelming. Gwen itches to high-tail it, wanting nothing more than to be away from the sorrowful faces and the look of pain in her brother's eyes.

As soon as the pastor finishes the sermon and Elyan takes his hand away, Gwen begins to briskly walk down the hill toward her small rusted car. The small crowd bustles in her wake, surprised at her swift exit. Elyan breaks away to catch up with her.

"Gwen, wait!"

A flurry of curls and Gwen is facing him, rage boiling up into her chest.

"Elyan, I've had enough of this!" She runs a hand over her hair, knowing it was frizzling with the humidity. "I don't want to be here! I can't stand that-" She gestures madly at her stepmother back on the hill. "-thing! You know she's the one who had the idea to send me to boarding school. Wouldn't even consider getting to know her new step-daughter, no!"

Elyan makes to interject, but Gwen continues her much needed venting. Lord knows how long she's been holding it in. She continues walking away but still talks loudly, Elyan practically at her heals. "I didn't need to be here for this. I don't know why you dragged me here."

"He was our father, Gwen. He would have wanted us here."

"If he wanted us here, maybe he should've thought about actually participating in our lives, Elyan. Do you know when I last saw him? Three years ago. At the financial aid office at Uni. Because a check bounced. He wasn't even there to send me off first year. You did!"

"Gwen, it wasn't like he was there for me either..."

"Right! Because it's completely okay for him to cut you off when you ran away from home at 16 because you wanted to be something other than a deadbeat attorney. It's completely okay for him to just abandon us both after that. How can you forgive him so easily?"

"Because he's been trying to make things right with us for ages now!" Elyans hands had found their way onto Gwen's trembling shoulders. "Ages, Gwen. Ever since you graduated, he's been asking for you, trying to get in touch."

Gwen faltered, staring up at her brother. "But he never..."

"It was the cancer. Gwen, he couldn't talk after a certain point. And I know Georgia tried to call..."

"Shit."

"...But you never liked her, I know. I heard how many times you hung up on her. I should have just come to see you. I was going to actually." Elyan takes her arm and laces it through his, as they continue their trek down the hill. "Got a train ticket for next week and everything."

Gwen feels like she's in a daze. She lets Elyan guide her through the trees towards the exit._ I feel like I've done this before._

They walk in silence for the rest of the way until they're standing in front of Gwen's old rusty car. Elyan makes her face him for a moment, looking into her sorrow filled eyes.

"Pudge."

Gwen rolls her eyes, half-heartedly glaring at her older brother.

"Gwen, he loved you. You need to know that. He loves you still. And he knows that you love him too, deep down." He wipes away a stray curl, going in to hug his sister. Gwen is first reluctant, but eases into the hug and is eventually grasping onto him.

"I'm sorry, El. I'm so sorry."

His silence is a comfort.

When they part, Elyan has a dark and sobering look on his face, inquiring, curious.

"You look tired...Are you still having those dreams?" It was barely a question, because Gwen could tell he knew whether or not without her even answering. She spins on her heal, goes to unlock her car. She appreciates Elyan's concern, but those have always been a private matter that she barely speaks about with anyone. Not Elyan, not her parents, not anyone. He only knew because he was her brother.

"They're few and far between now, Elyan. I'm mostly tired because I've been picking up shifts to save for the trip to Ireland next week." Lying to her brother was easy.

Elyan pauses, searching her body language to find an answer. "Congratulations, by the way. That internship gonna turn into something?"

This topic of conversation was so much easier. Gwen looks up, a smooth smile gracing her lips. Oh, how she craved to climb into her car and blast that AC, even if it smelled of mothballs for some unknown reason.

"Possibly. Depends on if Professor G is thinking of taking a teaching assistant next semester. Possibly get myself a grant to work myself through the rest of grad school. I would live in those old ruins if I have to."

"Which reminds me, that old bat at Dad's firm wants to talk to us about his will."

"Aw, El, I thought we were off the topic of Dad. We know he gave the house to Georgia. She's probably got most of the money, too. What else is there?"

Elyan kicks at the pavement next to the car. "Whatever it is, Olivia wants us at the firm tomorrow at 8. She said it was urgent." He starts to walk away, hands in his suit pockets. Half way into her car, she yells back at him.

"Don't get your hopes up, Elyan! He probably left us some useless football memorabilia."

"See you tomorrow, Pudge!"

With an exasperated groan, Gwen plops herself down in the front seat.

* * *

The drive home is overly bright and filled with mothball scented air. Fat drops of tears roll down Gwen's face the entire way.

She arrives home to her flat in the city hours later. Dusk has fallen once again and there is a storm broiling over the horizon. Shedding her funeral attire for a plain tank top and shorts, Gwen opens up the windows to her small studio flat, hoping the rain would send a breeze her way. The humid air was choking. All she wants now was to cool down. Ice from the freezer on the back of her neck helps somewhat.

Gwen messages Elena, letting her know that she'll be late to work tomorrow. She boils up some instant ramen, adds some chili sauce to the mix and downs a bottle of hard cider before falling down on her mattress by the window. Sprawling on her back, she looks upward. The darkness outside her window glimmers. It's finally raining.

Her eyes are heavy and dry from the loss of moisture after her bought of crying earlier.

The dream wafts over her with a coat of familiarity that allows her body become heavy and still.

It's the same dream she's had since she can remember. Always only colors and smells and soft, faded touches. Metal and bright blood crimson red. Lavender and silk and crisp apple on her tongue. Shining gold halos above her head. The smell of musty, moist air, as if she was surrounded in stone. Moss. Cotton and linen between her fingertips. She was always smiling. And her left hand would always be encased in another's. A hand, long light fingers pale against hers, distinctly strong and definitely male. Sometimes interlocked. Sometimes held loosely, delicately, other times with great strength, as if she was going to disappear at any moment. Sometimes, very rarely yet most vividly, clutched in the most intimate way possible.

But the constant was always that each hand, hers and this unknown male, so starkly different than hers, wore a band of simple design. Simple, yet infinitely recognizable. A wedding band.


	3. Chapter 2 - The Deed

Chapter 2! Enjoy!

* * *

Elyan's call wakes her up with a jolt. The dream she was having flitters away. Gwen stays still and silent for ages before she finally answers, letting Elyan know that she was on her way down. The last thing she wanted was to get dressed again in formal-wear. If it was at all possible, it is even more humid than the day before. With a hearty groan, Gwen lifts herself up to get ready.

Minutes later, her hair is wet and dripping from her shower and she's pulling on a pair of teal colored shorts that stop right above her knee. A baggy band tee will have to do. She refuses to wear heals. Olivia will just have to forgive her.

Elyan is quiet during the ride over, stoic as always. Gwen tries to go over her packing list one more time. She also pulls out her calculator, trying to figure out what hotel she can stay at for the week. She pulls her curls into a messy bun on top of her head, out of her face, frowning slightly. The historical inn is out of the question then. Gwen contemplates pre-cooking and freezing meals to save on restaurants. Nope, either way, she'll have to stay at the motel on the edge of town. She will have to walk too. 40 minutes each way, by the looks of it. Her phone starts to buzz when they cross the bridge towards the city. She makes a note to check for any boarding houses in the town by the ruins before finally answering.

"Hi, Professor! What can I do for you?"

Gwen listens as the elderly man on the other side of the phone sighs.

"Hello, Miss Leondegrance. I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

Gwen listens carefully for several minutes, a mixture of disappointment and relief washing over her. "I understand, sir. I'm disappointed too. Let me know if anything changes."

She hangs up and pouts.

"Damnit."

"What's wrong?"

"The expedition to the ruins have been canceled. Apparently the property doesn't belong to the current owners anymore. The expedition team has lost its licensing with them. They just got the notice. They're trying to contact the new owner, but it looks like the trip is going to be postponed for a while." Gwen let her head fall back to the headrest behind her with a soft thud. "Damn."

"That's what you get for majoring in old Medieval...stuff."

"El, I majored in Archaeological Anthropology. My concentration may have been on medieval cathedrals and castles, but I mostly study humans."

"Dead ones, Dr. Jones."

Gwen thwaps Elyan upside the head but remains silent for a while watching the city fly by outside the window.

"You still owe me a fedora."

* * *

Olivia bustles up to them with a sad smile, forcing both siblings into awkward hugs. She ushers Gwen and Elyan into her large office, which is bright from the picture window behind Olivia's desk chair.

"Come in, come in, children. Make yourselves at home, my loves."

Gwen resists rolling her eyes, instead sharing a look with Elyan. The middle aged woman stares at the two as they took their seats in front of her huge mahogany desk. It was just short of awkward.

"Alrighty, let's get this over with, huh?" Olivia pulls out a folder, opening it up. Gwen regards that it was much thicker than she believed her father's will would ever be.

"Now, as you know, your father's estate in London will remain under the name of your mother-"

"Step-mother."

"-Mrs. Leondegrance," Olivia's eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, but she continues to read. "...but there is still the matter of handing over your grandfather's estate."

Gwen and Elyan exchange looks. "Our grandfather? He died in World War II." Gwen raises a skeptical eyebrow right back.

"Yes, yet he left behind a set of land for his sons. Your father was the last one in line to claim the land. He took partial ownership, renting it out, so to speak, to a caretaker." Olivia then hands the packet of paper to Elyan.

"Your father then left it to the both of you. Equal parts."

Elyan, wide eyed and staring, peruses the packet, taking note of every signature and name.

"Jesus."

Gwen peers over Elyan's shoulder. "So, what? We sell it? I feel there must be a catch somewhere..."

"No catch, Miss Leondegrance. It's all yours. Your father's only instructions was that you both agree with what to do with the land."

"Then we sell, right, Elyan? It must be worth something." Gwen sits back in her own chair heavily. This news is...interesting to say the least. Maybe there was a reason why her father left the land to them. She could pay off the rest of her student debts.

"I don't think you'd want to do that, Pudge." The thrill in Elyan's voice is hard to miss.

"What do you mean?"

"What was the name of the place you were going to next weekend? The site of those ruins? That castle?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Gwen. What was the name?"

"Someplace in Ireland... The castle was Ballycarberry Castle. The ruins are in a rural town nearby. Near Cahersiveen. Across the water. A clump of forest. County Kerry. Uh-wait- it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Castlequin?"

"Yeah!"

Elyan is silent, looking at Gwen out of the corner of his eye. He wordlessly hands her the packet of paper and then bends over and starts to laugh. Uproariously. Gwen's hands are shaking when she takes the paper and reads through. Olivia is surprisingly quiet.

"No."

"Yes."

"It can't be."

"It can. And it is."

"Holy-" Gwen slouches in her chair. "Fucking-bloody hell."

Olivia is smiling a broad toothy smile. Elyan gives a little laugh.

"I take it this is good news?"

Gwen holds a hand over her mouth, too frightened that it is all a dream, too scared to say anything. Elyan speaks up in her favor.

"So, this land, what does it include?"

"276 acres of land, forest. Which will undoubtedly include those ruins I keep hearing about. And a house." Olivia's eyes shine with mirth. "Two stories, 232 square meters. Ocean view."

"You have got to be shitting me."

"Jesus, Gwen where'd you learn that language?"

"Where do you think, El?"

Elyan then straightens up and looks to Olivia. "So can I just sign my half to her right now, or do I have to come back later? Fill out different paperwork?"

"What?!"

Gwen practically perches on the edge of her seat. She blatantly stares at her brother in shock.

"I don't need to own land. You do what you want with it, Gwen. It's all yours. I know dad intended it for you anyway. I knew there was a reason why he kept trying to contact you. Why he only allowed your university to do the dig onsite."

"Only my-"

"Yeah. Tons of other archaeologists and schools approached him when the ruins were discovered. But he would only allow your department to do it. Even slashed the fee for them."

"Oh my god. That's who they were talking about. The generous landowner." Gwen slouches in her seat again, raking her hands through her hair as best as possible. It had come out of its bun. Tears started forming at the corner of her eyes.

Olivia takes the moment of silence to answer Elyan's question. She exits her office to make copies of the ownership agreement. They could get this done in ten minutes.

Elyan crouches by Gwen's side as a wave of tears hits.

"Hey. Hey, Pudge, it's okay. He wasn't expecting anything from you. He wanted this for you because he wanted to make things right."

"But he made out half to you-"

"And my shop has given me more profit than you can imagine, Gwen. Than even Dad could imagine. He didn't know I would be so much better off. He did this for us. More importantly he did this for you and I hope you take it." He pulls her hands away from her face. "It's a chance of a life time. And it's all yours."

"Elyan, I'm 25! I can't own land!"

"Says who?" Elyan sits back in his chair when he hears Olivia returning. "Look, you don't have to live there. You can sell the place. Fix it up. Make it a bed and breakfast. Whatever you'd like. There's already someone who takes care of the place, so it's not like it'll be a huge chore to fix up."

Gwen looks at her brother, mimicking his straightened position. Olivia walks in, straightening the skirt of her plum colored suit.

"So. Ready to sign?"

Gwen pauses and stares at the line on the page handed to her. She reaches for the proffered pen.

* * *

I am in no way an expert in Archaeological Anthropology or Ireland. The area I picked was just after perusing Google maps and finding a pretty hill with forestry on the southern coast of County Kerry. I am mostly using it to stay consistent. I tried making up a place but it didn't sound believable at all. D:

Also, my knowledge of land agreements/deeds is only slightly better than my knowledge of Ireland, but I assure you I am no expert. So yeah, if I got something wrong, let me know. I am mostly just trying to make it believable.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Journey Part 1

Chapter 3- Again, dialogue heavy. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

Gwen takes the rest of the week off from work, Elyan covering any extra expenses in the meantime, buying a large pizza pie and a six pack of good beer for the both of them to celebrate. They arrange for a visit to the estate, Carhaise House, according to the documents. She messages Elena with apologies and Elena is more than forgiving. Dance night will have to wait.

She calls her professor, who is highly skeptical after her story but eventually is thrilled to learn that the dig won't be postponed for long. Gwen is about to put her phone down when it buzzes again. She answers the phone.

"Miss Leondegrance?"

Shock hits her like a ton of bricks. Gwen clutches at her chest, willing to breathe. What is going on? She closes her eyes as images flash behind her eyes. Like her dreams, but...different. Red and blue, dull but soft. Leather. The smell of earth and grass. And a hint of herbs. Like mint and rosemary. A flurry of energy rushes through her. The memory is gone just as quickly as it came. She recognizes the voice on the other side of the phone. But it sounds like an elderly man, age evident in the softness of his voice. Like a name on the tip of her tongue, she feels a memory just on the cusp of realization. She is suddenly aware then that he's called her name two more times.

"I- I'm sorry. Head rush." She laughs uncomfortably. "Yes. This is Gwen Leondegrance."

"Good evening, miss. I just wanted to get in touch with you before Thursday to give you directions to the house from Killarney. Will you be taking the lorry over?"

"Oh, no, we're driving our own vehicle from the ferry. Is that alright?"

"Of course my dear. Now, do you have a pen and paper?"

The two converse then on the best route to get to the house. It seemed easy enough, but the man on the other line assures her that it was easy to get lost in the endless plains of Ireland.

Somehow, Gwen finds the voice on the other line reassuring and they end up talking for almost two hours about Carhaise House. The caretaker recalls its age and the many events that the house and land held. A foreign prince once stayed the night. It was once a boarding home for orphans. Her own grandfather bought the house just before the Second World War, knowing that if he should die, his children would have a refuge. Such a shame it was never used since.

Gwen can feel the fondness the elderly man feels for the place even over the phone. He goes on to tell her how the windows tend to rattle during storms. How to open up the second floor balcony door, because it jams up during the summer months. The pass code to the security panel. Gwen asks if he'll be on the property, but he apologizes, and Gwen can only interpret his tone as bashful. He will be working at the marina on the day she'll get into town.

Somewhere deep down, Gwen feels disappointment. She wants more than anything to put a face to the kind voice. _It was like the voice is almost too familiar. How could it be so easy to talk to him when I've never met him?_

Gwen makes to hang up then after she thanks the gentleman on the other side of the phone for his help, but stops.

"I'm so sorry, sir, but I have completely forgot to ask you your name."

The other line was silent for so long that she believed for a moment that he had already hung up. But he clears his voice and for a moment his tone is deeper and the memories are suddenly just there again, waiting to immerge.

"My lady, my name is Emrys."

* * *

The sky opens up with a clap of thunder just as they exit Killarney on Thursday morning. Gwen and Elyan each have a simple sandwich to munch on for their remaining half hour trip. If they were lucky. They turn the radio off. The pattering of the rain on the roof is their only soundtrack. Sheets of cold rain make the drive slow and tense. But once they cross the bridge and make their way up the hill, the tension dissipates and awe takes its place. Gwen turns her little car down the dirt and gravel road and the trees part to reveal the structure hidden there.

The house sits on the highest point of the hill, which is sloped gradually. Structurally it is simple. Two stories, the first floor has a cozy looking extension off the north side. A simple porch adorns the brick front. But the house is covered in ivy and moss and glistens in the rain. While Gwen knows the structure underneath is a deep brick red, the house looks completely green in color with all the foliage it is draped in.

And Gwen cannot seem to see any problem with it._ Gives the place character._

Driving up the hill, they see a small lake on the other side, surrounded by pond fronds and more foliage. The forest starts again on the opposite side.

Gwen parks at the end of the drive, just under a lark oak tree. She and Elyan sit in silence for a long moment, staring up through the rain at the house.

"It doesn't look too bad. Mr. Emrys says he takes care of any repairs biweekly. Everything except a leaky faucet on the second floor is up to date."

"How much do you think it'll sell for?" Elyan questions, eyeing Gwen warily. She's still staring up at the house, fiddling with the keys they picked up at a post office in Killarney. Mr. Emrys sent them the day before.

"I'm not going to sell it."

Elyan turned his head to fully look at his sister. "Uh. What?"

"I'm going to live here." She holds the look of determination on her face. Like anything she says wasn't ridiculous at all.

"When did you decide that?! Why? What about-"

"I made my decision yesterday, after I talked to the caretaker. See, it all fits. I can devote my grad studies on the ruins of Castlequin. I can apply for a grant. They're technically mine now and I kinda have experience with archaeology, you know."

Elyan groaned.

"If I live here, I won't have to rent out an apartment in town. I can walk to the site in less than ten minutes! The mortgage is paid off already. Mr. Emrys doesn't ask for much pay so he can help me with upkeep. The dig will get me funds. I won't ask for much and I know the university will give me anything for this opportunity." The excitement is visibly bubbling up in the young woman. Brown eyes smiling, she bounces in her seat. Elyan looks skeptical still.

"What about your job?"

"Quit this morning."

"What about your friends?"

"Just have one. Elena practically slapped me when I doubted I could make it here. She says she'll visit whenever she likes. I will do the same."

"What about University? Don't you need to go to classes?

"Nope. Completed all my requirements. This internship fills up the rest of my credits. I can just work on my thesis from here on, and the ruins will certainly help with that." She was positively beaming. "I'll have my masters by next March."

Elyan cusses softly. But understanding read all over his face. And pride. In her.

"You're going to need some more furniture. An actual bed. Not just a flimsy mattress. A dining table. I bet you twenty quid that there will be no difference when you move your stuff from that pitiful flat. No one will be able to tell you actually moved in."

Gwen squeals with glee, hugging Elyan, the gear shift stabbing her in the side.

The rain was merely a drizzle when they exit the car.

"I've got enough in my savings to keep me steady for a month. Mr. Emrys says there's a job opening at the library in town. You know I'm qualified for that." Gwen hops up the steps with glee. They thud dully with the humidity and rain. The air is musty but clean. Clear and calm, with a hint of salt from the ocean just on the horizon. Her rain coat sways in the slight breeze. "El, I just needed to get out of the city. I'm telling you, I'm feeling good things will come from this."

Elyan watches with careful wonder as his sister approaches the dark wooden door. A glass window with a delicate floral design is encased on the front, frosted and reminiscent of stained glass. It glints as she unlocks and opens the door. His next words are soft spoken and lost on his sister's ears as she disappears inside the dark structure.

"I trust you know what you're doing, Guinevere. Always."

* * *

A.N. - Made a small adjustment to this chapter. I meant to make Gwen's phone call with the caretaker to be much more mysterious than what it ended up being. Hope this works better. Other small revisions were made as well.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Tower Part 1

Next chapter! Also, feel free to go back to the previous chapter, as I have done a little bit of revision. Nothing really huge, but some subplot stuff. Also, all of Gwen's dreams/visions will be in italics from here on. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The first thing Gwen does when she crosses the empty landing of Carhaise house is pull out the paper from her pocket and dial in the security code into the small display by the front door. A welcoming beep greets her. Elyan's shadow darkens the doorway and he raises an inquiring eyebrow at her. She smirks, knowing what he's thinking.

"The place may look old but Mr. Emrys got the security system installed after -and I quote- 'hooligans with too much time on their hands' got in and almost destroyed the place."

Elyan seems to accept it, and Gwen knows he's happy that she will be protected in some way. He wanders off deeper into the house, towards the kitchen.

The rest of the house is dark, all the bulbs missing from the ancient sconces, curled leaves of gold that have darkened with oxidation and time.

Gwen finds herself in the main sitting room, at the front of the house. She inspects the room, large and open, with hands in her jacket pockets. At the end of the room is a majestic fireplace, cobble stones of varying shades of bluish gray, each carefully cemented together. They are cool under her fingertips. The room is comfortable even with the humidity rising outside.

The wooden floors are aged, and show slight wear from use. A darkening in the wood makes Gwen believe someone paced back and forth in front of the windows at some point in the past. But they shine with polish and Gwen can't wait to walk around barefoot.

Tracing the darkened path, Gwen finds herself in front of the drawn curtains. She pulls the heavy material away from the window. Two double casement windows, tall and thin, look out to the porch and front yard. Their wooden frames are painted white and are chipping slightly. Fresh paint was definitely in store.

Gwen unlatches one of the windows. She expects the scent of rain. She feels the moisture on the skin of her cheeks. What she doesn't expect is the scent of wisteria and honeysuckle. The scent is tangy on her tongue, it's so thick. She closes her eyes, the memory she digs up, crisp and clear.

_A stone wall, choked with vines and covered in bright purple and violet flowers, petals scattered on a forest floor. She walks past a broken stained glass window. The design is of a shrouded woman cradling a baby, each covered in glittering gold, surrounded by blooming flora. Bells tolling in the distance. A celebration?_

"Guinevere!"

Gwen jolts away from the window, hearing Elyan's call from the kitchen. Did she just fall asleep where she was standing? Her dreams had never been that clear.

Gwen makes her way to the back of the house, rubbing her forehead in confusion. She pads her way through the dining room and passes the curtained French doors that lead out to the back yard. She finds the kitchen is painted a warm orange, like sunset. Elyan stands by a retro-styled ice box, inspecting its contents.

"Ice lolly?"

Gwen glares and scolds her brother halfheartedly. After checking the gas in the large wrought iron stove, the two inspect the rest of the house. They find a study on the second floor, empty shelves lining each wall. They are surprised to find a desk pushed up against the far side of the room. Its style indicates age, its legs are adorned in stylized carvings. Gwen itches to take pictures and bring it back to the university to find out how old it really is.

The rest of the rooms are unremarkable. A large master bedroom, a smaller bedroom with adjoining bath. The main bathroom is much more interesting. The tiles are stylized, a soft blue that reminds Gwen of the sea just outside the door. The clawed tub is a nice touch. All the faucets work. An abundance of closet space. Gwen tries to hide the glee she feels as they make their way down the stairs.

"So when is move in?"

"Probably by the end of the week. My landlord was very understanding. I had a month to month lease anyway, so I won't be losing any money."

"You gonna need my help?"

"Nah, Elena's got it covered. Her brother will chip in. I don't want to take you away from the shop for another day more."

"If you say so, Pudge." They were in the entryway once again. The house was quiet, the pattering of the rain on the roof the only sound. "Hey, did you check out the back?"

"Oh! No, I forgot."

The back doors, locked by a skeleton key, open inward, and Gwen expects to find herself outside again. But instead, the wood floors are traded in for slabs of stone, flattened and smooth under her footsteps. Glass walls surround her, the panes shining and glittering with drops of rain.

"Huh. A greenhouse. Didn't know that came with the package."

"Me neither. It's quite pretty."

But Gwen's attention wasn't on the greenhouse. Somehow, her eyes fixated on the horizon on the other side of the glass, blurry as it may be with the torrent of rain that had suddenly hit. She makes her way to the glass door that opens out into the backyard. As if a chord is drawing her out, beckoning her forward, she slowly walks away from the house. Elyan's shout of confusion never reaches her ears. Her mind was blank and still.

Gwen is just at the edge of the water when her mind buzzes to life again. Elyan is by her side, yanking at her jacket sleeve.

"What are you doing!?"

Through soaked hair, she glances at her brother. "I-"

The air is vibrating around her. Energy is pulsing through her veins. "I didn't think we'd be able to see it from here. I had only seen...photos."

Her eyes once again fix on the object on the horizon, barely visible in the clouds of rain. If anyone else had been looking at it, they'd think it was just another part of the forest. But Gwen is more than sure that the tower in the distance is the tallest part of the Castlequin ruins, the structure the research team had jokingly dubbed the Tower of Camelot.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, El. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. I know what that place means to you. You got overexcited."

"Yeah, and lack of sleep doesn't help. Got kinda dazed." Elyan gives a little laugh from the driver's seat.

"It was like your sleepwalking days all over again. Don't worry, Pudge. No harm done."

"So. Are you sure you're going to be okay with this? I know this is all a little unorthodox."

"Since when have you followed the rules, Gwen? I shouldn't be so surprised. I should be used to this by now. Just...keep the place locked at night. Don't want you sleepwalking out the back door."

Gwen gives a happy laugh and watches the world outside her window pass by.

* * *

Too excited to sleep, Gwen works into the early hours of the morning, packing and labeling and sending messages to the expedition team. It's close to 4 in the morning when she finally lets herself rest. And the sudden onslaught of images as soon as she closes her eyes paralyzes her.

_She smells metal, hot and molten, mixed with steamy air. She sees bright red cloth, swishing in the distance, a cape on a pair of broad shoulders. She hears laughter, melodic and joyous, to her right. Stone steps. The ever present hand. And suddenly that hand belongs to an arm clad in chain-mail. An arm that belongs to a body. The halo above her head is suddenly heavy, no longer a halo but a crown adorned with rubies and amethyst. In her dream, she turns her head and her eyes lock onto the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen._


	6. Chapter 5 - Moving In

Next chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, faved, and followed so far. You are all so sweet and kind!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The preparation for the move is a jumble of paperwork and cardboard boxes. Gwen orders a moving truck to get her small collection of furniture to the house. Her mattress, the small red sofa with patches sewn into the cushions, two empty bookcases, and a gorgeous set of table and chairs that she bought at a flea market. Her mother's hand-me-down sewing table fits in the back seat of her car snugly. Miscellaneous boxes take up the rest of the small truck. Her apartment is bare and just as tiny as ever.

To cut down the expenses and multiple trips, she asks Elena to drive the furniture to Carhaise house for her. But Elena can't get out of work Friday evening and instead will arrive Saturday morning to help move in. Gwen decides not to stay in a hotel for the extra day, as she promised her landlord she'd be out by mid-day. She prepares a knapsack and several amenities for her first night at Carhaise House, even purchasing a bottle of champagne from her favorite shop in the city. She orders a pizza while stopping in Killarney, and just as the sun begins to set, arrives at the house, silhouetted by the sunlight.

She goes to open the front door and finds a note taped to the glass.

_Welcome home, Miss Gwen. I have left a house-warming gift in the kitchen. Feel free to contact me if there is any issue with your move-in._

_Emrys_

The script is quick and strong, like brush strokes.

She finds a bouquet of violet hued wild flowers on the kitchen table. Next to it is a small cardboard box. Gwen half expects a piece of jewelry. She tips out a skeleton key. It's coolness on the palm of her hand is sharp and strange. It sits heavily in her hand. The metal is dull and Gwen can tell it was delicately made by an expert smith. Holding it up to the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window, she sees the metal is shaped into the form of a dragon, wings folded into itself. The metal rod and bit being the fire it breathes.

Gwen overturns the box and is surprised to find no note or indication of where it belonged. _What does this unlock?_

She takes the rest of the evening to search for the lock. She starts from the attic and works her way to the basement but nothing fits. All the keyholes in the house are too small. The desk that sits in the study doesn't have any drawers. She ponders if there's a secret door somewhere in the house. Or maybe Mr. Emrys just gave her a useless key for decoration. Soon, it's too dark to search and she resigns herself to the living room where she had left her belongings. She places the key on top of the mantle as a reminder. She sets up shop there in the living room, laying out her sleeping bag, pillows, and blankets by the front windows. She opens up one of them, a welcoming breeze bringing the now expected scent of wisteria and honeysuckle. She pulls out her laptop, putting on a movie she had gleaned from her small collection. The Princess Bride, one of her favorites. Laying on her front, now in nothing but her tank and a pair of white panties, she finishes two slices of pizza. She pours champagne into a spare coffee mug and toasts to the house before drinking almost half the bottle.

Once the credits roll, she feels slightly buzzed and warm. She lays her head on her crossed arms, the tips of her toes dipping off the end of the sleeping bag, sticking to the wooden floor in the humidity.

She feels comfortable and calm. The sleep that captures her is sudden but welcome. And, for once in a very long time, Gwen doesn't dream.

* * *

"Elena? Do you believe in ghosts?"

The blonde woman popped up from behind the car, a mask of alarm on her face. "What? No. Why? Is this place haunted? Did you bring me to a house that's haunted, Gwen? Because if spooky stuff starts happening, I promise you, I'll be running for the hills."

Gwen laughs, lifts up a box filled with kitchen supplies and makes for the open front door of the house. "But you just said you don't believe in ghosts."

Elena follows her, carrying a load of folded blankets and sheets. "Well, only after watching all those paranormal activity shows, I'm pretty sure something unexplainable can happen...depending on the place," She stops just short of the steps that lead up to the porch. "This place isn't built on a Native American burial ground, is it?"

"Elena. We're in Ireland."

"Oh. Right."

They start to make their way into the house, Elena taking the steps to deposit the sheets upstairs. All the windows and doors are open on the particularly blistering morning. The trees that surround the western side of the house are buzzing with insects. Birds chatter in the darkened shade of the forest. The air is hot and humid and there's not a single cloud in the sky.

Somewhere above her head, Gwen hears static from a radio cut through the air. The static switches to music, something vaguely 80s. Elena comes bouncing down the stairs, humming along, swaying her hips exaggeratedly.

"Found the stereo, did you?" Gwen calls from the kitchen.

"What? Just cuz we're unpacking doesn't mean we can't party!" Elena disappears out the door, but a moment later and she pops back into the kitchen, head tilted to the side.

"Wait. Why were you asking about ghosts again?"

Gwen looks up from the stove where she was arranging the pots and pans. She hesitates, not knowing if she should tell Elena the truth behind her curiosity.

"I don't think this place is haunted, per se. I just feel like there's a presence here."

"And by presence, you mean ghost, right? Oh my god, have you seen a ghost?" Gwen laughs at Elena's enthusiasm.

"No, nothing like your normal ghostly stuff. No floating or moving objects. No footsteps. No coldness when they pass through you. None of that crap."

"You're not scared? What if it's a peeping tom? What if it's a boy ghost that is only living in this astral plane to watch pretty girls in the shower?"

"Elena!"

"But really. What makes you so sure?"

Gwen sighs. "It's like, you know the feeling you get when you're completely alone in a house? Or at your apartment? The hyper sensitivity to any unexplained noise or bump in the night? The slight unease you get?"

"Yeah, and you turn on all the lights in the place just to feel safe?"

"Exactly. Now, compare that to now, the unease is gone, because you're here, with me! Like the feeling of reassurance that someone is in the house with you, even if they're in the kitchen while you're upstairs."

The two continue through the house, back out to the car.

"Huh. So you're saying-"

"I'm saying that's what I felt last night when I stayed here. I mean, usually it takes me a day or two to be able to sleep peacefully in a new place, even a hotel!"

"Gwen, I saw the almost empty bottle of bubbly in the fridge. You fell asleep because you were tipsy."

"No I wasn't! Alcohol doesn't make me sleepy, Elena. You remember what happened at your brother's party. I get super hyper. But last night I fell asleep so fast. I felt safe, like I was sure that there was someone here to protect me."

Elena stalls in the doorway again. Something passes over her blue eyes, something that Gwen can only describe as recognition. But it's gone in a flash and the bubbly blonde bounces down the stairs with a happy grin.

"I think you're imagining things, Gwen. I mean, I think I'd believe you if you saw something. Felt someone touch the back of your neck. Or if you find that all your left socks were missing."

Gwen snorts at Elena's antics, rolling her eyes. She hands Elena a box filled with bathroom supplies. "Take that one to the master bath, please, Lena."

Grabbing a suitcase, Gwen makes to return to the house. But Elena stops her, nudging her in her side.

A small red convertible is making its way up the long gravel road, a small cloud of dust in its wake. Elena glares at the vehicle, but with a hint of mirth.

"Great. Peter's here. Right on time."

"Aw, come on, Elena. You know we won't be able to unload the truck without his help."

"You just like looking at his arms." Elena bats her lashes and flexes a bicep, Rosie the Riveter style, bath supplies under her other arm.

Gwen stays silent but hopes that Elena doesn't see the smirk on her face. The car comes to a stop just behind the small moving truck. An impossibly tall man exits the small convertible. _I can never understand how he can fit in that thing._

"Someone call for some heavy lifting?"

Shucking off his aviator glasses, the tall man comes into full view. He rakes a hand over his honey colored hair, cut tight to his scalp. He wears jeans and a faded tee, thankfully with the sleeves ripped off. He sees Gwen standing beside his sister and a wide open smile graces his masculine features.

"Pudge!"

"No." Gwen points a warning finger at him, feigning a stern mask of annoyance, stepping back as he approaches her. A smile is forcing itself onto her face, however, giggles bubbling in her chest. He opens his arms, laughing.

"Aw, come on! I haven't seen you in forever." And Gwen suddenly doesn't have enough time to drop the suitcase from her hands when Peter grabs her around the waist in a crushing hug, lifting the petite woman off the ground. Gwen's giggles are infectious.

"Peter Percival Ronan, you put the archaeologist down, right now!"

Something clicks in Gwen's head and her world gets foggy, her giggles suddenly dissipating. When Peter drops her to the ground, barking back at his sister, she stands silently, awkwardly holding onto his forearms. There's only one thought in her head and she has to fight through the daze to get her mouth to move.

"Your middle name is Percival?"

Elena's eyes are suddenly strained on Gwen and Peter smiles down at her sheepishly. "Heh, yeah, I guess you never knew that. Not like I wanted everyone to know, _Elena Gertrude_!" He directed the last part of his statement at his sister, who remains planted on the top of the steps. He detaches himself from Gwen's hands and sidles over to the truck. "Now, what do you need me to lift first?"

"The bed frame would be great." Elena's eyes no longer hold a concerned wariness but an amused and mischievous glint. Gwen suddenly snaps to, realizing what was said.

"Bed? I don't have a bed. What-" She falls behind Peter, who laughs at the confusion on her face as he pulls up the door to the trailer. Gwen peers into the darkness. "Elena, what did you do?"

Elena shrugs and grins at her friend. "Just a gift. It's been in the family for years and you know it will never fit my style. I much prefer my futon. And Peter here isn't _ever_ going to get his grubby mitts on it."

"Ha ha. Like I'd want something like this." _Sarcasm runs in the family, apparently._

Gwen is taken aback by how generous her friend is. The bed frame is a simple looking four poster bed with a pretty wooden headboard, carved in a dark wood that looks polished to perfection.

"I can't take this."

"Gwen, you are. I sneaked out of work to get this into the truck so you better take it. I can't let you sleep on the floor any longer, not in a nice place like this. And that is the end of this conversation. Hang on, Peter, let me drop these upstairs and we'll come help you."

"Gotcha." Peter jumps up into the trailer, pulling out various boxes to get out of the way. He sees Gwen's dazed look. "Just go with it, Gwen. You've known her since, what, 5th year of primary school? You know how stubborn she is. Once she's got an idea in her head, she never lets it go."

"I know, Peter." But Gwen can't help but let the hesitancy in her voice come through. Peter pulls three boxes, stacked one on top of another, off the trailer and brings them toward the house. He gives her a comforting smile as he passes.

"You're gonna love this place."

He walks away then, and Gwen sees a flash of red, imagines a flowing cape on his broad shoulders swaying with his heavy steps as he departs. She blinks and the vision is gone.

* * *

That's all for now, folks! x Lou


	7. Chapter 6 - The Tower Part 2

Back to the Tower! If you're interested in my unofficial soundtrack, I listened to a lot of the Truman Show OST when writing this, particularly "Father Kolbe's Preaching" for the dream sequence. If any of you wonderful reviewers and followers are interested in the songs that inspire me for any of these chapters, let me know. A lot of what I write is heavily influenced by music, so I thought that would be interesting to make a playlist or something. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The weekend flies by in a blur. Gwen sorts through her belongings, surprised and exceedingly aware of how much stuff she was able to cram into her previous apartment. And yet, she knows that once everything is in its proper place, once every dish is in its cupboard and each towel is in its drawer, there will still be a sense of emptiness to the house. In the end, her book collection barely fills up a third of the study shelves on one wall. She needs to get into town and look for some more furniture, and quick. An armoire would fit nicely in her bedroom. And maybe a comfy reading chair by the fireplace for the winter months. Gwen pulls out a notepad to make a list of what she'll need eventually. Lord knows what she's going to do with that second bedroom.

She spends Saturday evening and most of Sunday unpacking each box and carton. Well, at least there was a temporary use for the room, as she chucks each empty box and bin into it for the time being.

Her nights are only different due to the change in elevation of her bed. The four poster is quite taller than her previous arrangement and she falls out of bed only once. Her dreams return, but are faded. By morning they're nothing more than disappearing mist on the horizon.

Early Monday she gets an email from her professor, he wonders when they can get the paperwork redone for use of the land. Gwen is sitting in her bathrobe on her bed, having just taken a shower, when she reads the email. Curiosity sparks to life in her gut. She turns her head towards the open window. She sees the tower in the distance, the morning sun dying the sky a shade of blushing pink. _Should I?_

She quickly answers the email. Tuesday, the library in the town to sign the papers, looking forward to get started by the end of the week.

Gwen pulls on a pair of shorts. The sun has yet to fully rise over the forest, but the forecast calls for another heat wave and she wants to be prepared. She picks an old tee the color of sunflower petals, one that is far too big on her. The sleeves reach her elbows and the hem almost covers the shorts. A pair of hiking boots are thrown on her feet and she grabs her keys, a water bottle, a compass, and her phone. Before leaving the house, she checks that the phone is charged fully. She pulls her hair up out of the way and into a tight bun, loose curls poking out at her neck and forehead.

She's about to lock the front door when she stops herself. Returning to the living room, she grabs the skeleton key from the mantle and pockets it without a second thought.

Gwen dials the security pass and locks the front door. After happily jumping down the front steps, she makes her way around the building. The grass is dewy and birds are chirping high in the trees. She slowly makes her way down the hill, reveling in the feel of the thick grass swiping at her ankles. The small lake before her is dark and still, a thin layer of mist curling over its surface. She catches sight of a path that circles around it and toward the forest on the other side of the water. It's overgrown with weeds and cattails but it was a definite path at one point. She follows it carefully, avoiding the water's edge.

Gwen hums to herself as she treks farther forward. Occasionally she glances back to the house, a constant point behind her. She doesn't know what she's going to do once she reaches her destination but she's sure she's going to enjoy the journey.  
The forest is dense, she finds. Gwen realizes this as she finally breaks onto a solid path on the forest floor. It was no wonder it took ages for the ruins of Castlequin to be discovered. The thickness of each tree trunk made it very evident that the forest was far older than she had imagined. By now the sun was probably far overhead, she catches glimpses of it through the canopy, but the leaves overhead soak up most of the light. The heavy smell of moss invades her senses. She travels for what seems like hours, her feet now caked in mud and leaves. She is about to climb over a small rise in the forest floor when the scent of moss is replaced by the overwhelming tang of wisteria and honeysuckle.

She crests the rise and sees through the spotting of trees the tower. About half a kilometer away, it pierces through the canopy and into the sunlight. She walks carefully towards the site, trying to remember what parts of the forest floor they were about to dig up. She knows that just west of the base of the tower is what the team thinks is a chapel. To the north is a possible gatehouse. The forest floor surrounding the ruins is soft and the smell of wet earth mixes with the floral scent in the air.

Gwen makes her way up to the tower, circling it at only an arm's length away, but she does not touch. Green, dewy moss covers almost every inch of the sharply cut stones, save for a few dry cracks. Half the tower had crumpled in on itself, leaving piles of broken slabs at the base. She maneuvers herself around the stones and is unexpectedly caught in a beam of light that breaks through the canopy. The sun is warm on her tawny skin. She stops and stays in the sunshine, letting it kiss her cheeks, her nose, her neck. She closes her eyes and sighs. A breeze rustles the trees overhead and she can feel it wash over her lashes. And then out of nowhere, without any warning, she feels him. The presence she felt at the house. The warmth he provides her, and she knows it's a he, is comforting and reassuring. It's as if he is standing right before her, as if she could reach out and touch the edge of crimson fabric that is just on the edge of her vision. She wishes with all the world that she could brush the cloth between her fingers.

But he tells her not to. No words are spoken but she can feel him guide her instead towards where she needed to be.

Her eyes snap open and she finds herself in the same position, caught in the shaft of sunlight. Not a soul to be seen. No indication that there ever was one.

Gwen turns her head to the tower, and sees the structure just where she thought it would be. Cropping out of the wall is the stone archway.

Underneath, a great wooden door, strangely moss free. At one point, there must have been another structure on its right, but it had long since disappeared. The spark of curiosity intensifies again. There was no mention of a doorway in the records the professor sent her.

Gwen wanders around to the other side of the door, chastising herself for thinking there would be anything on the opposite side. She's about to move on when the skeleton key thuds against her thigh through her pocket. She had forgotten she had taken it with her.

Her brown eyes slowly return to the door. She stares, wide eyed._ No. It can't be_. Her eyes land on the handle, a wrought iron latch, and then finally on the keyhole.

She doesn't know why she does it. Doesn't know what made her take the key out of her pocket. She doesn't know why she needs to check for the fit. And she doesn't know why she's not surprised at all when the key clicks into place. With little effort, as if she'd done it a million times before, she pulls down the handle and opens the door.

_The cathedral is decked in wreaths of her favorite vined flowers. Wisteria and honeysuckle. Banners of gold and red hang from the rafters. The congregation had left hours ago. Bells toll in the tower above and mirrors of the joyous song echo in the town below. Traces of the celebration were evident as she walks down the aisle, flower petals that the knights and their friends showered over them are strewn across the marble floor. She listens carefully and thinks for a moment that she can still hear the deep voice of the bishop, the choir of children singing happy songs just for the two of them. She can feel it reverberate off the intricate sculptures and facades, even though they were long gone. It's close to sunset, the golden light shining through the ornate stained glass windows on the west side, casting a shower of glittering rainbows across the room._

_She thinks she's alone in her thoughts, in her dreams. Until she glances down to the end of the center isle and realizes a figure, tall and clad in red is standing with his back to her. His hair is shining in the sun, gold and bright and adorned in a glittering crown. She begs the dream to let her have this one, just this once, please let him turn around. She wishes with all her might to look into his beautiful blue eyes again. And yet she fears that it will be over all too soon. And she somehow wishes that he never looks at her, if only for the dream to last longer. And when he takes a step down, pivots on his heel and turns to her, she forgets to breathe._

_His eyes lock onto hers and she wants to cry out in astonishment. His eyes, shining with old tears, glitter a brilliant blue that she knows she will never in a million lifetimes be able to find anywhere else. His face, strong jaw locked tightly, relaxes at the sight of her, the slightest of smiles gracing his lips. She doesn't realize how scared she is, frightened to death that she'll lose him again, until he opens his perfect mouth, a new but all too familiar part of him, to speak._

_"Guinevere."_

* * *

A.N. Next chapter to come soon! Look forward to a trip to the library, the marina, and the expedition team finally meeting up, with a few surprise guests!


	8. Chapter 7 - Waking Up

Hello, folks! Next chapter is here. Certainly one of my longest chapters.

I also just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has followed/faved/reviewed. You are all so sweet!

I also have a little surprise in store for everyone. Some of you may know that I'm a part time artist (if you didn't, well, tada!), and I usually find myself drawing a lot of the scenes I write beforehand in order to really imagine them. On my profile page I will be including links to some of my sketches and designs in case any of you are interested. So far I have done a painting of Carhaise House and the grounds. More will be uploaded if you are curious.

This chapter was heavily influenced by the song "Chances" by Athlete. A or similar playlist will also be included on my profile page soon. Keep an eye out.

Again, thank you all for taking this journey with me. Enjoy!

x Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

_"...there isn't much time."_

Gwen jolts awake, gasping, sitting up from the damp forest floor.

She tries to breathe, but uncontrollable sobs rack her body, making it hard to fill her lungs with precious air. Tears flow freely down her cheeks and she takes a moment to realize they're there. She wipes at her face, but more tears flow, her sobs echoing out into the forest. She doesn't know why she's crying, but still the tears come. She tries her best to not panic, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She closes her eyes against the tears, forcing the gut wrenching feeling of abandonment down as best she can.

Her breathing finally levels and all she can hear is the leaves around her rustling in the slight wind and the chirps of birds off in the distance.

The first thing she does, after her hands stop shaking and the hitch in her throat is gone, is carefully remove the twigs and leaves from the bun in her hair. She knows her entire back is damp and dirty from the forest floor where she landed, she can feel it through her shirt. She checks for injuries. Besides a headache that thuds between her eyes, she seems perfectly healthy. The fall was into a pile of dead leaves and soft earth, so her head didn't hit anything damaging.

Gwen surveys her surroundings. She had fallen backwards, away from the tower and archway. The door is still cracked open, the forest glittering with sunlight on the other side. She lifts her chin to look at the canopy above. The sun hadn't moved much. Her fainting spell must not have lasted very long at all. The tower still stands high above her head.

She wonders then, what had just transpired. The man in the non-existent cathedral. She remembers him saying something, calling out to her. His voice was soft but his face held a warning. He was trying to tell her something. What did he say? Why couldn't she remember?

Gwen shakes her head, thoroughly confused with herself. _Mystery men? Disappearing cathedrals? Uncontrollable sobbing? I should be more concerned about my health!_

She lifts herself then from the forest floor, resigning to find a doctor in town as soon as possible. She brushes off the back of her calves as best as possible. She finds her muscles are sore, rubbing at her shoulder. She'll have to take a bath when she returns to Carhaise House, get rid of the ache and dirt.

Gwen eyes the archway warily with careful brown eyes. Whatever the archway meant, whatever it used to be, there was something strange happening to the ruins. Maybe the ruins of Castlequin _were_ actually haunted. Her eyes fall on the key, still in the lock. _Why had Mr. Emrys given me a key to this place?_

Not willing on leaving it in the door, Gwen quickly takes key from the lock in a flash. She steps far away from the archway, half expecting to faint again or to have another vision. But nothing happens. The door is unchanged and the tower remains beside her and the world is still shining with sunlight. She parts from the ruins with trepidation. She keeps looking over her shoulder the whole trip through the forest. Not until the tower is fully out of sight does she stop looking back.

The trip back to Carhaise House is unremarkable. The sun beats down on her whenever it breaks through the leaves above, and Gwen knows she's going to have sunburn on her cheeks and nose. A few extra freckles are also inevitable. The dark curls at the base of her skull are frizzing in the heat and humidity. She is sluggish when she climbs the stone steps to the front door of her home. She wants nothing more than to curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book.

Gwen realizes then when she gets to the kitchen that she had been gone for roughly 6 hours, by judge of the clock. And yet, even with the sun high overhead, the house was cool and a relief to her aching skin. She deposits the skeleton key in a drawer, holding it in her hand for no longer than necessary.

As she draws a bath, her mind is abuzz. She puts on music to fill the empty house, the local classical station, but soon it is forgotten. She keeps going over her steps in the forest, keeps replaying the dream, the vision, the hallucination, whatever it was. It was so vivid to her. She replays the moments she has catalogued in her mind. Memorizing every aspect of the man at the altar. The way his cape swished against the marble floor. How his chainmail moved ever so slightly with his movement, how the twinkling of the metal reached her ears. She wishes to never forget the look he gave her, the sound of his voice.

The hot water soothes her sore limbs and clears her head. While the vision has definitely kept her on edge, she still feels great frustration at how the vision ended. She was grateful that she was able to hear his voice, to see his face. But as soon as he continued to speak, the dream blurred, his voice muffled as if he was miles away. The cathedral walls began to crumble and then she woke.

Gwen sinks further into the silky water, until the water hits the tip of her nose. Her cheeks sting slightly where the water meets the sunburn on her caramel skin. Aloe would definitely be a comfort now. Leaning out of the tub, dripping water on the pale blue tiles, Gwen rummages through the still unpacked box of beauty products and toiletries. But the small bottle of aloe could not be found. Sighing, she decides to go into town early to check out the local market and try to find an herbal shop for a suitable replacement. Her already low food supplies were beginning to be quite sparse as well.

Her stomach grumbles and Gwen takes the cue to leave her bath. She lets her hair down from its bun, the dark curls falling over her shoulders as she dries off.

Gwen feels the fatigue setting in, even though it was late afternoon. The sun is casting bright shafts of light in the hallway and across her bed. She considers taking a nap, feeling the need to curl up like a cat in the sun. But she dresses determinately in a tank top and a pair of shorts and veers away from her room. Sleep was not an option right now. She doesn't know if she can handle another vision. Even if she does see the handsome mystery man again, which would be a treat. No, sleeping should be put off until absolutely necessary.

Gwen spends the evening cooking up a simple meal, the rest of the pasta she has on hand with a side of roasted carrots and herbs. She makes a large pot of coffee, determined to stay up late. She doesn't admit to herself that she is avoiding her dreams as one does chocolate or fine foods. The utter craving she has to see the blonde man again is overwhelming and constantly on her mind throughout the evening. So much so that she almost scalds her hand on the mug of hot coffee she pours herself. She rubs at her face, frustrated with herself and her hormones. She really needs to distract herself.

Hours later, after the sun had set, Gwen has settled herself in the living room, laying back in the cushions of her beat up old couch. She nurses a third cup of coffee and attempts to go over the notes on the ruins of Castlequin. It is her third try, every attempt she makes at keeping an unbiased mind so far has shattered every time she sees the photographs or reads over a particular description of the tower. Her meeting with the professor tomorrow is important, she should have as much information as possible.

The single lamp in the room flickers. She drops the packet of paper in her lap just as a rumble of thunder in the distance cuts through the air. Gwen is about to pour herself another cup of coffee when the power cuts out. She takes it as a sign to head to bed. Hopefully the power will return by morning, or else she'll have to call Mr. Emrys.

She lays in bed watching the storm through the window for a couple more hours, the caffeine and anxiety making sleep elude her. She forces herself to refrain from thinking about the ruins, finding the next best option. She closes her eyes against the worst of the thunder and lightning, the memories they rile up painful.

By morning, she finds she's disappointed that she doesn't dream of the man in the forest. But she doesn't regret dreaming of her mother's lovely singing voice, something she hadn't dreamt of in a very long time.

* * *

The power had returned in the night, so Gwen sadly doesn't have to call Mr. Emrys. The air is surprisingly cool and refreshing by the time she wakes, close to midday. She decides then to walk to Cahersiveen instead of driving, knowing the exercise and cool breeze would be welcoming.

The town is quiet by the time Gwen arrives, with just enough time to meet the professor at the library. The building in question is a small two story sitting on the corner of the town square. The gray sky opens up just as Gwen reaches the last block before the library. She doesn't even try to pull her hood up on her rain jacket, much preferring the cool feeling of the rain on her slightly sweaty skin. By the time she's inside, her hair is drenched.

The air conditioning is thankfully not blasting like the library at the university. The place is small but highly stocked. The shelves reach the ceiling, stepladders strewn about the room. It was quaint. At the front desk, a young man in checking out the books an elderly woman had placed on the counter. He doesn't look up from his work. Gwen recognizes him from somewhere, possibly seen him in Killarney, his curly strawberry blonde hair flopping over his face. He's got his facial hair styled into a beard, dark against his jaw. Gwen is impressed by the sleeve tattoos he sports.

As she walks by, toward the study tables, she notes his nametag. "Lee" is scrawled across it. She sees her professor sitting at one of the far tables, by a window. She smiles and hikes her bag over her shoulder more.

She doesn't catch the double-take the attendant makes at her as she walks forward.

The man sitting at the table is elderly, large horn-rimmed glasses perched on his long, crooked nose. His white hair has been trimmed since she had seen him last, it is usually a floppy mess around his head. His hazel eyes shine out from behind his wrinkles and he smiles a toothy grin at Gwen when he spots her. He wears his usual plaid shirt and bowtie. He is a short man, but spunky. Gwen always has to keep up with his energy when out in the field.

"There she is! There's our miracle worker!" His voice is raspy but strong.

"It's so good to see you again, Professor Kilgarrah."

* * *

They talk for a while, pouring over a jumble of paperwork that Gwen signs and dates and the Professor takes to photocopy for the university attorney.

"My condolences about your father, Miss Leondegrance."

"Thank you, sir. You know he and I weren't close, but underneath it all, he was a good man. I'm so grateful to him for giving me this opportunity."

"Ah yes. I remember you mentioning that issue with him. But indeed. Silver lining." Gwen tilts her head to the side while the professor goes over some more notes about the dig.

"That reminds me, sir. Were you aware my father had access to the land? That he was the owner?" Professor Kilgarrah looks over his glasses at her, his wrinkled face a mask of calm. He takes a sharp breath.

"I suspected as much when the university went over the papers last time. And after I did some research. It wasn't my knowledge that he was very active in keeping the land however, so I never brought it up." Gwen nods.

"He wasn't. He never mentioned it to me. Or my family. My stepmother didn't even know about it until after Elyan had signed the papers over to me. Quite mad, she was."

"Is this the same woman who sent you to boarding school not a month after your mother's accident?" Gwen looks up from the paperwork. The elderly man across from her is still looking down at the table. Anger is broiling in her stomach. _He knew this was a sensitive subject. After all these years of knowing her._

"Yes. It is."

Professor Kilgarrah looks up at Gwen once again. A look of concern escapes from behind the mask but is gone in a flash. He doesn't pry any further.

"Before I go, here's a list of all the junior interns. As you're in senior position, if you could email them all for me and set up a time for the first dig?"

Gwen nods, taking the proffered list. "Do you have a preference in time, sir?"

"Bright and early would be best, my dear."

Gwen thinks for a moment that she should tell the professor about visiting the site the previous day, but refrains.

The professor parts with a kind smile and leaves Gwen to her musings. She watches the attendant with the tattoos, seemingly the only staff around, busily log in books at the front desk. Occasionally he would turn to her, to put a book in a pile or reach for a stamp on the back table, and he would glance her way. But the glance never lasts longer than a millisecond.

Gwen pulls out a piece of paper and walks up to the front desk. The attendant, Lee, is turned away from her, crouching down as he rummages through a box of paper supplies. When he rights himself and sees her standing there, he jumps. Gwen smiles bashfully, apologizing.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"Quite alright, miss. I just didn't see you there," He deposits a stack of envelopes to the side of the computer. "What can I help you with?"

Gwen smiles, handing Lee her resume. "I was wondering if that position I've heard about is still open?" Lee reads over the paper, taking note of her experience and major. His eyes widened and looked up at her, recognition on his face.

"Ah! You're the new owner of Carhaise House! I've been waiting to see you here..."

"Did Mr. Emrys tell you about me?"

"Mr. Emrys?" Lee's brown brows furrowed for a moment before he starts to laugh. "Oh! Yes. Emrys. He told me to wait on giving the position until after I've seen you." He turns and pulls out a yellow piece of paper from under a large stack of newspapers. "Here. Fill this out. I can give you an impromptu interview now, just to get it over with."

The two talk about the library, about Gwen's experience with customers and computers, all of which are exemplary. Lee seems positively distracted throughout the interview, however, and Gwen fears for a moment that he isn't interested in hiring her at all. She halfheartedly fills out the application and hands it in out of grace. But Lee stops her before she goes. "So when can you start?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Gwen does a little hop back to the front desk, which Lee smiles at in amusement.

The two hash out a simple work schedule that works for Gwen's week and then continue talking about archaeology and what Gwen does. Trying to veer the conversation away from the ruins of Castlequin, Gwen asks Lee a favor.

"Is there a place here where I can find natural oils and lotions? Or a natures market type of place?" Gwen rubs at the bridge of her nose, feeling the burn start to peel there. "I'm allergic to a lot of the stuff in today's beauty products."

Lee suddenly gets a dark look in his steely blue eyes. He sets his jaw and lowers his head. "No. There's nothing like that here. You'll have to try the next town over. Or even Killarney."

Gwen is startled by the change in demeanor, but thanks him anyway. They say their goodbyes and Gwen heads off down the road to the open air market. The vendors are sweet and generous, one of the local farmers even her a small basket of raspberries for half their price. She has just enough cash on hand to purchase flour, a head of kale, some apples, and a wedge of pale and tangy cheese that melts on her tongue. She hopes it will survive the walk back in her satchel.

Gwen is about to head towards the bridge when she passes by the alley between the town bank and a small dress shop with frilly dresses out front. Down the alley is another shop, painted a deep purple that is darkened to black in the shade. The sign above the door is painted gold. Jars of jewel colored liquids and bars of soap piled on top of each other are on display in the window. The doorway is surrounded with ivy and dried lavender. The sign reads Le Fay's Apothecary.

* * *

A.N. - Next chapter Gwen sees a doctor. Sort of.


	9. Chapter 8 - Le Fay's

Yay, New Chapter! Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed. I'm so glad you're reading. Fair warning, this chapter gets a little bit darker, especially at the end. Bear with me.

I have created a youtube playlist (which you can find on my profile) and the track that I just added is "Get Me Through December" by Alison Krauss. That song mostly inspired the end and Gwen's dream. Also, go ahead and check out my sketches if you're interested, they are also on my profile.

Anyway, enjoy! x Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The door chimes when Gwen opens it. The shop is dark and the smell of incense permeates the air. A neon sign above the cash register advertises palm reading. From deeper within the store, behind a rack of pretty packaged toiletries, a woman in black bustles about.

"Hello! Welcome to Le Fay's Apothecary! If you need anything, just let me know!" The lilt in her voice is sweet and she disappears further into the shop before Gwen can put a face to the voice. Gwen takes a moment to survey the selection. All across one wall is a jumble of different colored candles and incense holders. Behind the cash register is a shelf filled with tiny bottles of mystery liquid. Tarot cards and crystal balls are on display in the glass case by the front. A table is sitting in the corner, a purple velvet tablecloth covering it. She doesn't see the particular form of lotion she needs.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me find something." She calls out to the woman. A sudden flurry of noise occurs in the milliseconds following her call. Glass shatters and several hard objects fall to the wooden floor. "Ah- Are you alright?"

The woman doesn't answer right away, but Gwen can see her form slowly move out of the shadows and towards her. When the woman finally hits light, Gwen can't help but be surprised that such a sweet voice would belong to such a woman. She blushes heavily.

The woman in question is unbelievably tall, she wears black combat boots that are polished and impeccably clean. She wears all black, skin tight pants and a form fitting black tank, lace circling her bust. Her hair is a deep dark black and is shaved on both sides of her head. The resulting mohawk is pulled back and a cascade of black tendrils fall over her back like a wild mane. One part of it is pulled over her shoulder in a loose braid. She has one dark brow pierced and a single hoop earring falls from her left ear. The woman's face is gorgeous, her pale skin contrasted by bright red painted lips and dark black eyeliner that is smudged under her entrancing green eyes. The air is suddenly tense. The look on the woman's face is indescribable. In fact, it is as if she's going through a million different thoughts. Caution, anger, fear, happiness. They're all there. Gwen has to find her voice again when she realizes that the shop has been quiet for a long while.

"Are you alright?"

Whatever she had said must have worked because the woman straightens, if it was even possible, even taller, and postures her shoulders. She sets her chin and the regal look she masters is frightening and familiar to Gwen. Her gorgeous face is set as a steely mask of calm.

"Yes. Small accident, nothing to worry about. Now," She lets the corners of her mouth tilt upwards. "What can I help you with?" Gwen is flustered for a moment, looking everywhere but the emerald green eyes fixated on her. She stutters for a moment before speaking.

"Do you have anything that relieves sunburns? An aloe based lotion or something similar?"

The woman walks around the paralyzed Gwen, keeping eye contact for a good long while. When she breaks the contact, the woman circles around the cashier table and ducks behind it.

"Are you looking for a lotion? Or rubbing oil?" Her voice is slightly muffled.

"Whichever is more direct." Gwen approaches the register carefully, not willing to scare the girl again. The girl's manicured hand pops up and places a small vial of green liquid on the glass counter top. Her nails are blood red.

When the woman stands up into view, she is smiling again, but it is a sad smile full of sorrow and Gwen wonders why such a beautiful woman would be sad. She doesn't pry, however, and reaches for her wallet. She pauses for a moment, contemplating her next action.

"Anything else you need, miss?"

Gwen looks up at the woman, searching for some sort of reaction. "Do you have anything that will help me with dreamless sleep?" The woman's brows shoot up. She turns around and opens a purple painted cupboard, but her hand hesitates over a bottle of cream colored liquid. She turns back around and gives Gwen a look of concern.

"You're having bad dreams?"

"N-no. Just dreams. They're just really vivid and I mostly end up waking and tossing and turning for hours afterward." The woman nods, thoughtful, eyes cast downwards.

"Would you be interested in a palm reading? Or a tarot reading? I may be able to figure out why you're having these dreams." Gwen opens her mouth to decline the offer, but the look of curiosity in the woman's eyes is highly evident. She just can't say no.

"Uhm. What is your rate?" But the woman waves a manicured hand at her and smiles a brilliant and surprisingly warm smile.

"Nothing, if this helps you. Think of it as a favor." She gestures to the velvet covered table and Gwen settles her groceries down by one of the chairs. They each sit across from one another, their only light is a single candle the woman lights and sets to the side. "My name is Morgan, by the way."

"Gwen." And Morgan's lips curve upwards into a knowing smile. She extends her hands out, holding her palms face up. Gwen carefully places her own into the proffered hands. She doesn't expect the woman's hands to be so warm and caring. She turns Gwen's hands over, inspecting each of them in the candlelight. She softly places Gwen's left hand down on the table, flat on the velvet top. She cradles Gwen's right hand in her own and takes a finger and traces patterns across the surface. Gwen realizes then that her whole body is tingling and there is a rush of energy flowing up and down her spine. Her eyes droop. Morgan starts to speak.

"You had a traumatic childhood, didn't you?"

Gwen re-opens her eyes, hoping that the look she gives Morgan is a glare. But she knows her energy was too focused on the tingling that rushes to her scalp to be truly effective. Morgan's attention is also directly on her hand. She smooths out Gwen's palm, eyes flitting to every line like she was reading a book. "Goodness. Car accident? You were in it, weren't you?"

Gwen stares into the emerald eyes across from her. The dark brows that are knit together with concern are becoming more and more familiar to her. She only has enough energy to make a slight nod. Morgan gasps, eyes cast back down to the extended palm.

"An orphan now. You were alone for a long time." Morgan drags a finger across a line at the base of Gwen's palm. "But lately your luck has changed. You are starting anew." None of what she was saying were questions. She looks up at Gwen. "That is certainly good." Morgan places the hand back on the table and picks up the other. Gwen feels like she's in a trance. _She knows this woman._

"Now, let's look at those dreams. Ah!" Morgan brushes a gentle finger across a particularly deep line by Gwen's ring finger. "You dream of a man."

Gwen cannot respond. She just waits. Morgan remains quiet for a long time, reading the hand in front of her. Alarm grows like wildfire on her face. She begins to mutter to herself. "...it's not time...not yet."

Gwen fights through the fog and her own brows furrow in confusion. "What's wrong?"

Morgan drops her hand as if burned. She shoots up from her sitting position and continues muttering. She's glaring at nothing in particular, a look of pure acid. Gwen fears that it will be directed at her. _That it already has._

The woman rummages through the cupboard again, and pulls out a clear bottle from way in the back. It holds a syrupy looking liquid the color of honey. She hands it to Gwen and looks into her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is stern and solid. Firm, like a mother scolding a child.

"Add a spoonful of this to a cup of non-caffeinated tea before you go to bed. It will make your sleep deeper and more relaxed."

"Thank you, Morgan." Gwen takes it in her hand, the fog now gone. "What is it?"

"It is honey mixed with a highly potent root mixture. You should take no more than a small spoonful each day. More than that and you may never wake up."

"How much for that and the aloe?"

Morgan charges a small sum for both bottles, and Gwen suspects she's secretly giving Gwen a huge discount. Picking up the rest of her groceries, Gwen thanks Morgan and turns to leave. She misses the shadow that crosses Morgan's painted face when she parts.

"Good luck, Guinevere."

* * *

That night Gwen expects not to dream at all. She expects, with some disappointment, that she would not see the mystery man again. And at first, the draught seems to work. She falls asleep incredibly fast, asleep before her head hits the pillow. And at first the sleep is dreamless and still. But then it is like the dam breaks, and the nightmares flood in.

_The car is spinning out of control. The wet pavement is hard under her cheek, she knows she's bleeding from multiple places. She screams loudly for her mother. She tries to turn her head, tries to look at the driver's side, crumpled and coiled and glass is everywhere. It is quiet, save for the beeping the car makes when a seat-belt is undone. She screams louder and louder for her mother, even when she's in the emergency room, even when the doctors try to get her to concentrate and cooperate so they can fix her, even when the door to the next room opens and she sees her mother being cut open and sees the surgeons trying to bring back the life in her eyes. She screams and screams and then suddenly the sounds of the E.R. are replaced by the sounds of a battle. Metal clanging and shouts of pain and the air is drenched in the scent of blood. Her screams for the friend who betrayed her. The fires crackle and burn around her, singing her blood red dress. She screams in anguish when the knights return without their leader. She screams when she loses the baby._

* * *

Another chapter (sort of) is on the way!


	10. Interlude No 1

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The phone rings and it takes Merlin a long time to remember who the number belonged to. He remembers, thankfully, just as the phone makes its final ring.

"What do you want?"

"Merlin. She came to me today." Merlin sighs heavily, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. I should have never let her stay in town. "I swear, I didn't go to her, or approach her in any way. She just showed up at my shop!"

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything! I promise." Merlin grunts. He doesn't believe her. "She's been having visions, Merlin. She's not sleeping because of them. I don't think you're taking the prophecy seriously."

Merlin wants to roar at her, but his current location prevents him from doing so. "Why do you say that?"

"We need to act now, Merlin. She's beginning to remember."

"That's imp-"

"I know! You think it's impossible. But believe me, Merlin, there are some things I'm not sure you understand about the prophecy..."

"And how are you so sure?"

"Because I was the one who made it, remember?"

Merlin is silent, running an unsteady hand through his disheveled hair. "Fine. I'll gather everyone so we can make the next move."

"When are you going to include me on the plan, Merlin?" Her voice sounded irritated. He can't help but feel his heart ache at the lilt in her voice. He hates that he gets some sort of sadistic pleasure every time she contacts him. He knows it will only end in heartbreak. For both of them.

"Morgana."

"Merlin. Please." The other line is quiet for a long time. "I know you don't trust me-"

"How can I, Morgana? Don't go near her again. I'm warning you."

It takes a great deal of strength for Merlin to hang up the phone. In the dark of the on-call room, he pulls on his blue scrub top and hangs his stethoscope over his neck. When he opens the door, the busy ER noises meets his ears and he heads into the fray.

* * *

Elyan pulls the mask over his face, taking the soldering iron in hand. Sparks fly for a moment and then he inspects his work. His shop is quiet, it's late in the evening and the metal working he's doing is intricate. The garage door is open, the cool city street on the other side is surprisingly quiet. He doesn't notice the woman, dressed in an impeccable tweed suit, standing in the doorway. Golden blonde hair falls over her shoulders. Her black eyes focused on the crouching Elyan, like a lioness with its prey.

Elyan stands and turns, just as she comes to stand next to him. How he had missed her stiletto heels clicking against the concrete pavement, he'll never know. Alarm bells ring in his head and suddenly he has to fight to breathe, her hand wrapped around his neck, like a vice. He can only rasp out a single word.

"Morgause."

* * *

_"Merlin."_

_"It is time, sire."_

_"I know. I saw her, Merlin."_

_"You did?"_

_"Yes. She was dreaming of our wedding."_

_"But- She's in the mortal world. And you're-"_

_"That's why I know it's time, Merlin. The walls are beginning to fall."_

_"I see."_

_"I tried to warn her, Merlin. Is there any way we can stop them?"_

_"I'm afraid not, sire. But the knights are doing their best for the time being."_

_"Good. And Merlin?"_

_"Yes, Arthur?"_

_"Thank you. For everything. Thank you for protecting her."_

_"You know I would do anything for her, sire."_

_"I know your time is running out. You must leave. Now."_

_"I will see you again, sire. With the rise of Camalot."_

_"I trust that you are right, Merlin."_

_"Me too, sire."_

* * *

_AN That's all for now, everyone. Next chapter will probably be up in the next day or two. _


	11. Chapter 9 - The Train

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

Music to listen to from playlist on my profile? "Lost and Found" by Katie Herzig

Now, without further adieu, Chapter 9!

* * *

When Gwen finally gains consciousness, she immediately runs to the bathroom, forcing herself under a freezing cold shower, still in her sweat soaked pajamas. The images she has seen and still feels are burned into her brain. Whenever she closes her eyes, she sees the battle, sees her mother, and sees the blood and the death around her. Of all the things in the dream, the one that confounds her the most is the miscarriage. It feels so real and she can still feel a ghost of pain in her abdomen. But to her knowledge, in her twenty five years of life, she had never been pregnant. Hell, she had never been truly intimate with another man, let alone been with one long enough to result in a baby. That's why Elena always made fun of her for being married to archaeology. Maybe her dreams are metaphors for something else going on in her life?

Only when her muscles start to involuntarily shiver does Gwen finally leave the shower. She slowly gets dressed and realizes it's close to 4 am. She glances at her bed, the sheets had fallen to the floor, and decides then that she would not try to get back to sleep.

And Gwen does not sleep for two whole days afterwards.

* * *

The doctor's office in Killarney is cold, sterile, and oh so quiet. Gwen sits on the exam table in the gown they made her wear. At least they let her keep her socks on. Goose pimples rise on the back of her neck and arms. It's so cold. Her eyelids are heavy. 57 hours and counting since she slept last. She can feel the bags under her eyes. For the last 12 hours, she plays a game in her mind to keep herself awake. She does math problems in her head, how many hours of work until she can afford the beautiful wardrobe she sees in town. How much macaroni and cheese she can make with the ingredients she has. How long it will take to watch every single DVD she owns. Maybe she'll do that when she gets home. It will keep her awake for a while, she figures.

The doctor knocks on the door and enters. She's a tall woman, old but not elderly, with kind grey eyes and her long red hair, white at the roots, is held back in a long braid. She puts on a pair of wire rimmed glasses and peers at Gwen's file.

"Guinevere. What a pretty name. I'm Doctor McKee. Now, what is the nature of your visit today?" Gwen fidgeted on the table under the scrutiny of the doctor.

"I am having trouble sleeping." The doctor nods and pulls out a sheet of paper, clicking a pen.

"Alright, I have a few questions to start us off." She peers over her glasses at Gwen. "When you do sleep, for how long do you sleep?"

"I try to get my eight hours in. But I always find myself awake after only a few, maybe after two straight hours? I try to get back to sleep and then it happens again. It's like a cycle." Doctor McKee scribbles in her notes.

"What wakes you up? Stomach issues? Nightmares? Or do you just wake up suddenly?"

"Dreams. Really vivid dreams. Sometimes nightmares. Every time I start to dream, my body wakes itself up."

"Do you do anything in bed besides sleeping and sexual intercourse? Do homework? Read? Surf the web?" Gwen gives a little laugh in her mind at the first question.

"Absolutely nothing but sleep." Doctor McKee's brows furrow for a moment.

"Hmm. Do you find yourself with less energy during the day because of this? Or have you ever fallen asleep suddenly during the day without warning?"

Gwen hesitates for a moment, feeling a twinge of shame. "I fell asleep suddenly, out of nowhere, just a few days ago. Just fell right over. And that was after I had a lot of sleep the night before."

Doctor McKee stares into Gwen's eyes and Gwen realize she's trying to read her. "That's why I came to you and not a psychiatrist."

"Well, that's no good." She starts scribbling frantically. "How long has this been happening?"

"You can see in my file, I was in a car crash at 14. Pretty much ever since then I have had dreams and insomnia. I have lived with it for years now, and I've been able to work through it. Only recently has it become a danger to my work and well-being. I can't be fainting or falling asleep randomly while I'm on a dig." Doctor McKee nods. She has obviously read about Gwen's occupation.

"I'm glad you came to me then. Have you tried medication before? A sleep aid of any kind?"

Gwen nods. "I've tried a lot of things. I've tried natural remedies, over the counter sleep aids, and prescription strength stuff. Natural remedies make me sleep longer, but intensify the nightmares. It's like I can't move my body or wake myself up."

"And prescription medication?"

"I think I'm allergic to a lot of the ones I've tried. I usually end up vomiting them up after I take them..." The doctor reads over her notes and sighs.

"Miss Leondegrance. I don't want to say for sure of anything until we run some tests. But a lot of your symptoms are related to the early stages of narcolepsy. I'm going to make an appointment with you for a series of tests. A polysomnogram, a hypocretin test, and a sleep latency test would be best. You may have to go to our specialist facility. It's at the hospital just down the road. You'll have to spend the night."

Gwen's mind rattles. She knows this isn't a death sentence and that it is scary, but somehow she is grateful that she'll have an answer soon.

"In the meantime, I will give you a low dose of prescription sleep aid. It's a kind with a new coating so it should go down easier. But feel free to not use it if it gives you stomach issues." She rips off a script from her prescription pad, and hands it to Gwen.

* * *

Gwen stays at a motel for the extra day in town, emailing the junior interns and letting them know that the dig is still on for Friday. She'll have to book it from Killarney to make it on time, but she knows she can make it.

The tests are intense, electrodes are attached on multiple places on her head, chest, and arms. The lumbar puncture is uncomfortable. She allows herself to sleep when the sleep lab intern asks her to. She dreams but her exhaustion has muddled the visions she swims through. She still tosses and turns the night she sleeps in the lab.

By morning, all her tests are complete and she just has to wait for the results back at home. She pulls out the train ticket she bought earlier from her purse, just as she walks through the front door of the hospital. Killarney is busy this particular morning, and hundreds of commuters head towards the train station with her.

Gwen sees him out of the corner of her eye just as she settles down in her seat on the train. He and his friend are just parallel to her talking low with one another. He's wearing a faded red beanie over his head, which hides the telltale ears and dark hair she knows is underneath. He has a single ear bud in the ear facing her. How could she forget those ridiculous cheekbones and silly grin? She wants him to turn his face, even the slightest tilt will do, so she can see his eyes, robin's egg blue, if she remembers correctly. She knows they would match perfectly to the scrubs he wears under the overlarge leather jacket on his shoulders. He looks lanky as ever. From her spot, she watches the two of them, wondering if she should approach.

The friend on the other side of the man in blue is bent over double, laughing uproariously at something said between the two. He doesn't wear a scrub shirt, but a Beatles tee. His hair is dark and gorgeous and floppy. He has a scruffy beard and his dark eyes crinkle with laughter. Until he sees her staring.

"Uh-Oh."

Gwen takes the cue to go over, and takes the empty seat in front of the man in question. She smiles at him when his blue eyes, _yep, just as blue as I remember, _finally lift to hers. Both men are seemingly transfixed and Gwen automatically regrets coming over.

"Uh. Hi! You don't remember me, do you?" She whispers to the man in the beanie sitting across from her. She knows this is awkward, but she has an inexplicable need to talk to him. His bright blue eyes are wide and he's blinking rapidly. His mouth opens and closes like a fish. The dark floppy haired man to his right leans in, still staring at the perplexed Gwen.

"What's she doing here, mate? I thought she was supposed to be at Cam-" The man in the beanie slaps a large hand over his friend's mouth. Finally, he speaks.

"My apologies, miss. I think you have me confused with someone else." But Gwen is determined and insistent._ Even his voice hasn't changed._

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a long time. You're the surgeon who helped with my craniotomy all those years ago. In Yorkshire? I was 14 at the time. You were there, during the recovery. You saved my life." She smiles, blushing, and then laughs wistfully, not not a littler perplexed. "You haven't changed a bit. Merlin, right?"

* * *

I'm so sorry. I have a tendency to do these cliffhangers. I try to avoid them, but they're just so fun. Things should be picking up from here on.

Thank you to all who've reviewed and read and faved and oh gosh I wish I could hug you all. x Lou


	12. Chapter 10 - The Empty Station

Chapter ten! Forgive me for the delay. Just started a new job and I've been exhausted from it. This chapter went through many revisions and will probably go through many more. Hello, by the way, to new followers and reviewers. You all keep me motivated and I'm so thrilled you're reading. But anyway. On to the chapter! x Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

* * *

The two men sitting across from Gwen on the train had very interesting reactions to her question, to say the least. Merlin, if she is correct, bends over and rests his head in his hands, mumbling and groaning loudly. The floppy haired man's jaw drops dramatically, and Gwen can tell he's amused because the corners of his mouth rise into an open mouth grin. He chortles at Merlin but continues to stare unabashedly at Gwen. She wonders for a moment if this was all too forward.

"Did I do something wrong? I just never got a chance to thank you...I didn't mean to intrude..." But Merlin holds up a long hand, stopping her from leaving her chair. Slowly, he lifts his head, pulling off his beanie. _There are the ears. _The earbud in the left one is pulled out. His dark brown hair is disheveled and he tries to straighten it. He opens his eyes, and Gwen sees a flash of sorrow behind them.

"Gwen, isn't it? I remember you. And your mum. I'm sorry I wasn't there to say goodbye." His friend's giddy grin turns into a frown but he says nothing. "So, what were you up to in Killarney?"

"Had an appointment at the hospital, actually. I take it you're coming from there too?"

"Yeah, I transferred two years ago. Trauma department. Is it something with your head? I will not be satisfied if I hear my work hasn't lasted after ten years..."

"Well, no, I don't think it has anything to do with my brain just yet." Gwen gives a gentle laugh. "I think it's just anxiety. I'm getting my masters this year and I have a new house." The friend nods along with just a hint of over-exaggeration, looking between Merlin and Gwen with great enthusiasm. "You don't look a day older than when I last saw you, Merlin! Goodness, that must have been ten years ago!"

Something clicked in her head then. _He can't be older than 22-23? How in the hell?_

"Yeah. Explain_that_, Doogie Howser." His friend was starting to look irritated, scruffy chin sitting on his fist. Merlin flusters about for a moment, stuttering.

"Genetics, I suppose. It runs in the family. Ha-have you met my friend here? Gwaine?" He slaps a hand on the man's shoulder, and Gwen can tell it had a certain force to it, as Gwaine flinches and pouts.

His adorable face turns into a wild, sultry grin and he extends out a hand to Gwen, which she takes without hesitation. His handshake is firm and warm, even if his hands are rough with callouses. She smirks at him but rolls her eyes when he grins back at her, obviously flirting. Merlin's stern voice cuts through Gwen's revelry.

"No, Gwaine."

Pouting like Merlin had just kicked his puppy, Gwaine withdraws his hand from Gwen's. She misses the warmth when the touch of his skin is gone. A spark of energy lingers, the tips of her fingertips tingling with a long forgotten memory. Merlin's eyes are on her when she looks up. They are focused on her hand, eyes ever so slightly squinting. He breaks the contact, and smiles when he sees her expression of confusion. He pulls out a notepad from his pocket and scribbles down something on it, handing it to her.

"My number, in case that head of yours ends up giving you some trouble. Or if they need to consult with the doctor who cut into it." The laughter in his voice creates an ache in the pit of Gwen's stomach, something close to nostalgia.

Gwaine's eyes shine with mirth, a smile aching to break through on his face. She pockets the number without a second thought, just as the speaker above their heads buzzes to life. The next stop was hers. She smiles and thanks the two men for their time before leaving the seat and heading down the aisle. Gwaine smiles enthusiastically at her departure. She catches herself before she places a hand on Merlin's shoulder as she passes. The feeling is like muscle memory. She continues, hiding the gesture by rubbing at her elbow.

The train station is empty when she hops off onto the platform. Completely empty. For ten in the morning, such a deserted train station would be unheard of. And Gwen only takes about three steps forward onto the gray concrete platform when she feels the energy in the air sizzle. The feeling is reminiscent of when her hand left Gwaine's. She stalls, still as stone, when she realizes that not even the train was making it's usual hiss. She doesn't even turn her head, just looks out of the corner of her eye at the steam that usually rises from beneath the train.

Gwen doesn't have much time to react to what she sees. The only thought she can muster is that it looked like someone took a photograph of the train station, everything was so still and unmoving. Time has come to a standstill.

"I'm sorry that we had to meet this way."

Her heart leaps in her throat in fear, just for a moment, before she spins around to face the voice.

Merlin stands a short distance away, with his hands clasped into fists by his sides. He no longer wears scrubs and the beaten leather jacket. Instead, he wears a pair of dark pants, thin and cut to his long and narrow legs. His scrub top is replaced with a white jacket, the gold edges that are embroidered at the cuffs and neck glint in the sunlight that breaks through the windows in the train station roof. The jacket is open in the front, revealing a tunic the color of the night sky, buttoned all the way up to his long neck. And to further prove that it was the same person, his dark hair is still messy and unkempt from when he pulled off his hat not five minutes previous. The last thing Gwen notices is the look of complete sorrow in the young man's bright blue eyes.

Gwen has a hard time trying to speak. Her tongue feels like lead. Her focus is away from the man now standing in front of her. She's more preoccupied with the fact that a newspaper is suspended in midair to her right. The passengers on the train are still as statues, one particular woman holds a coffee cup to her mouth, stopped midsip. A shadow of a bird has been halted, wings outspread.

"Gwen?"

Gwen realizes then, when she finally regains the sense to look back at Merlin, that her heart rate was skyrocketing, her breathing becoming more and more uneven, quickened like she had just ran a marathon. She is panicking, her vision becoming blurry. She almost misses the look of concern and the shout of alarm Merlin makes. She wavers, losing her balance. Merlin's voice sounds so far away, like he was shouting at her from the other end of a long, cold tunnel. She sees that he's got a hold of her, grasping her forearms in his hands, but her limbs are numb. The numbness consumes her then, her vision going black.

_She's submerged in water, the cold liquid waking her senses and clearing her mind. She opens her eyes and sees blue that goes on for ages, sees the light that breaks through the surface. The beams shift and glint and shift again with the current. Her need for air is nonexistent. She is vaguely aware of her nakedness, revels in the feeling of her skin against the flow of water. She stays submerged, waiting. She is calm, focused. Until the black starts to envelope her, choking her, clouding every thought and dream she ever had. She wants to scream, wishes that she has the ability to like her last dream. But her body goes limp, letting the poison drag her deeper into the inky black depths._

Gwen doesn't open her eyes when she wakes. She stays perfectly still, trying to gauge without her sight, where exactly she is. She is no longer at the train station, that she knows. She lays under the covers of a soft bed. She snaps her eyes open, realizing that it was her own bed. Her own room. At Carhaise House. She double checks herself, finds herself all in one piece. Her bag is in the corner of the room, someone must have placed it there. Sunlight shines through the window, it still isn't even midday yet. Climbing out of bed, only stumbling somewhat, Gwen starts to make her way towards the door. She's shocked into place when it opens before she has a chance to even reach the handle. And when Merlin steps in, still clad in white jacket and dark pants, Gwen's whole frame straightens until it's almost painful.

"Hey, you're awake! Listen, we need to tal-" But Merlin doesn't have a chance to finish his sentence before Gwen throws back her right arm and punches Merlin square in the jaw.

* * *

A.N. That's all for now. Next chapter will be updated soon. love you all


	13. Chapter 11 - The Confrontation

Chapter 11 is here! Enjoy!

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Gwen jumps into action when Merlin's lanky figure tumbles into a mess of limbs. She leapfrogs over him, into the hallway and hastily makes her way down the stairs, skipping the last four steps. She reaches the security panel by the door, and goes to press the panic button. But the screen in the panel is glowing green. _How had he gotten the security number?_

Hearing his stumbling footsteps upstairs, Gwen reverts to sprinting to the kitchen. The large knife she pulls out glints when his shadow appears in the hallway. Gwen brandishes it in front of her, slowly backing up inch by inch to the back door.

"Gwen! Wait! I mean no harm." When he walks into the light, he holds a position of defense, arms upraised in surrender. He comes to a standstill just at the entryway to the kitchen, holding back. But the anger that bubbled up in Gwen's throat refused to acknowledge his body language.

"What. The bloody hell. Are you doing in my house?" Each word is purposefully sharp as the knife in her hand. Her personal sanctuary has been invaded. She could lunge at him at that very moment and attack, for all she cares. But somewhere deep down, she feels the need to give him a chance. But just one. She backs up another inch to the door. Merlin takes a deep breathe, and opens his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I am sorry for intruding. I didn't know where else to bring you, after you fainted." Gwen extends her knife arm out even further, feeling the chance she gave the man in front of her was a waste. "I know why you have visions!" His hands lift higher, palms facing her.

Gwen narrows her eyes at him. Her patience is wearing thin. She grips the heavy handle of the knife even tighter. "Visions? I have nightmares and hallucinations from an as of yet unnamed illness. Now, I repeat myself. What are you doing here?"

"I am here to help you! Gwen, I am not _just_ a doctor." The hand not holding a knife grips onto the door handle behind her. "Please. Just let me show you."

He moves his left hand, the movement barely visible, but Gwen catches it. And suddenly Merlin's bright blue eyes, locked onto hers, pleading, turn a golden glow of yellow. The air sizzles again with an indescribable energy. Just like at the train station. The knife leaves her hand in a blink of an eye, careening away from her and re-sheathing itself into the knife-block. Gwen's gasp of surprise cuts through her throat. "You-"

"Have magic. Yes." His voice was filled with relief, a small smile escaping his calm exterior, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. But his relief is short lived, as Gwen takes the lull to make an escape out the back door to the greenhouse. "Gwen!"

Gwen runs, shoving the door to the backyard open, lunging out of it. She veers around the corner of the house, intending to make it to her car. But when she skids to a halt in front of the porch, she finds that the driveway is bare. She curses loudly. Her car was still at the train station.

The front door opens slowly, and Merlin pops his head out. "Gwen, wait, please. I didn't mean to scare you. This will only take a moment, I promise."

Gwen scoffs at him and spins around on her heel, stomping toward the lake. Merlin hops down from the porch and Gwen fears he'll try to follow her again, but he keeps a safe distance. "Gwen, I'm here to help you. I know how to stop the visions you're having. And what's causing them!" His shout causes her to stop, the blades of grass she stands in tickling her calves. She turns, glaring back at Merlin, who looks away from her stabbing gaze, scuffing his shoe against the gravel beneath his feet.

"Enlighten me, _Doctor."_

"It's all my fault, really. When you and your mum were in that car accident? I caused the visions to start because I helped you. Because I saved your life..." The sincerity in his voice is clear. But Gwen holds back, chiding herself to not be gullible. "Gwen, do you remember? Do you remember what you said to me when you woke up? After your surgery?"

Gwen tilts her head, furrowing her brow. It takes her but a second to recall what he was referring to. "I was a child. A young girl. I didn't know what I was saying."

"But you were right! You said. 'You are my friend. From when I was queen.' You were right! That's why I left so suddenly. You knew it then. And I know, deep down, you know it now as well." Gwen shook her head, groaning out loud. "You recognize my face, I know you do."

"What are you talking about?! I don't understand!"

"If you do not believe in past lives, Gwen, you must now. The visions you have are from _yours_. When you ruled an entire kingdom."

"This is utter bullshit. I don't believe you. You're insane." Gwen puts a hand to her forehead, a migraine is forming just behind her eyes. The sun is becoming more and more unbearable. "Please, just go."

Merlin bows his head in defeat. He looks disappointed, upset, dejected. "I will. I apologize profusely. I never meant to hurt you or scare you. But you need to know the truth. I never intended to approach you on the train. But time is running short." When he lifts his head, Gwen is taken aback by the unshed tears that shine in his blue eyes. A pang of guilt lingers in her chest, but she ignores it.

"Just reflect on one thing, after my departure, please. There is a reason why you're here, on this land. And why it calls to you like no other home has. Or ever will."

Merlin then gives the slightest of bows and barely whispers a final statement, the words drifting through Gwen like a breeze. "When you're ready, my friend."

He turns around, and Gwen has to shield her eyes from the glare of sunlight. The light itself engulfs his silhouette and suddenly he's gone.

Gwen falls to her knees then, a billion thoughts circling her mind. She can't seem to choose which emotion to feel at that very moment. Confusion at the whole exchange. Magic? There is no such thing. The thought was absurd to her. It was just an illusion, a trick he was playing on her. She feels sadness that the respect she had shown the man earlier was replaced with fear and wariness. And then she thinks on the words he spoke, whispered to her. She comes to a conclusion that he believed every word he uttered. That he legitimately was telling the truth. That he wasn't lying. That he was right. And that is what scared Gwen the most.

Gwen lays back into the long grass, the sun burning straight overhead. She takes a moment to calm herself, her panicked breathing slowly returning to normal.

When she rights herself, she is surprised to see two jeeps making their way down the lane towards Carhaise House. Gwen bolts upwards, cursing loudly, realizing who it is. The dig team was on its way and she was still in her clothes from the previous evening. Knowing they'd be at her doorstep in a matter of minutes, Gwen rushes inside and bolts around the house, compiling supplies and paperwork and trying to clean up before they arrive. She checks her phone while she changes into more suitable attire, and sees the Professor and Elyan had both called her. She resigns herself to call Elyan back later and to apologize profusely to the professor when he arrives.

Gwen is rushing down the stairs, running a brush through her curls in order to pull her hair back into a bun, when the doorbell chimes. When she opens the door and a group of four young men and women greet her with eager smiles. Two other men, minus Professor Kilgarrah, are unloading boxes of equipment from the trunks. Gwen returns her attention to the interns in front of her.

"Hello, Miss Leondegrance. I hope we're not too late." The intern who speaks is a thin and wispy young woman, silvery gray eyes trained up at Gwen with great regard. Gwen smiles at the girl, making a mental note to make sure the young one has sunscreen on, she was so pale.

"Not at all. I just got back from the train station myself. I was worried I'd be late to meet you. Come on in."

All six interns file in, the last young man lingering in the doorway, box of tools under his arm, observing the house and the group in shadow. Gwen motions for the junior interns to find seats in the dining room. Each one is smiling, looking around them in wonder, chatting amiably amongst themselves. And when they were suddenly alone, Gwen turns and realizes the young man in the doorway is staring at her. "Something wrong?"

He shakes his head, and Gwen has to let her eyes adjust to see his face. Figuring he was just anxious and shy, she holds out a hand to shake. "I'm Gwen."

He takes a step toward her to take hold of her proffered hand, and Gwen finally sees that the young man is incredibly good looking, and not as young as she assumed. _The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. _"Lance."

The blush that rises heats her entire face. He seems to not notice it in the shade of the hallway, and bypasses her when she points him toward the dining room. She remains in the hallway and has to lean against the cold wall to calm her rushing heart. _What on earth was that?_

Gwen regains her composure, fully intent on being a good team leader and senior intern, considering the Professor had yet to arrive. She smiles brightly when she enters the dining room. Most of the interns smile back, seemingly as excited as she was to begin. The young man she met in the front hallway stands in the corner, arms folded, and looks on. _Very stoic_, Gwen thinks. Pulling a file of paper off the kitchen table, Gwen stands in the archway that leads to the front room and begins.

"So. Welcome to Carhaise House. And Castlequin. I'm Gwen Leondegrance, as you may already know. I'll be the senior adviser and intern for the Castlequin dig. Before I take role, has anyone heard from the Professor this morning? I saw he called me, but he didn't leave a message." The interns all shake their heads, frowning. The wisp-like young woman speaks up.

"Last I heard he was on his way. We thought he was going to be here before us, actually."

"Well, that's alright. He said to start without him, if that happens. So we shall." Gwen pulls out the list of names and starts taking role. She finds out that the pale girl goes by Tess and is the youngest in the group, barely out of high school. Lance happens to be the oldest, but is still only a second year at the university. The rest are young and bright and Gwen is thrilled to work with all of them. Gwen goes over the route they'll be taking to the ruins and double checks that all the equipment they would need are packed away and ready. She assigns boxes of tools to each intern, the four men each carrying a single case. The two girls, Tess and Jennifer, take the last large box and carry it together.

Gwen stays behind at the house for a few minutes, taking a moment to compose herself again when a wave of worry courses through her. She thinks on how absurd it is that not an hour earlier she was dealing with displays of magic and holding a knife at someone she had trusted, fully intent on defending herself. She shakes away the memory and locks up the house. It was time to return to the ruins of Castlequin.

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A.N. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed so far. You all are awesome and I'm so glad you're still reading. I've got another chapter on the way(hopefully it will be up by the next morning), so keep an eye out. The subject matter is about to get intense, and fair warning, smutty references will be arriving very soon. So yeah, you've been warned. ;)


	14. Chapter 12 - Arthur's Gift

Even as a ghost, Arthur is a mischievous wise-ass. On to the chapter...

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Because it belongs to BBC.

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When they arrive at the clearing where the tower stands, Gwen feels like she's greeting an old friend. She refuses to return to the memory of the last time she was there, instead focusing on the technical side of the land and the ruins.

She has the interns map out a grid and set up a series of markers and tape, in order to arrange where they are going to start to dig. The rest of the day is tiresome and tedious and the sun above makes the area humid and muggy. They don't even begin to get started on actually digging. Their grid is far too large and the incredible amount of notes they have to take, each measure and each calculation precise, takes up most of their time.

The professor does not show, which worries Gwen until she checks her email on her phone. His flight was delayed, he'll be in town the following day. Until then, he trusted her to take over.

Gwen enjoys the camaraderie the interns and she had already formed. Throughout the day, they would chat with her amiably, comfortably. Except for Lance. Gwen couldn't tell if he was just quiet or shy. Tess and Jennifer didn't seem to mind his silence, as Gwen caught their glances at him when he was lifting a box of tools or stretching across a part of the grid to fix a bit of tape. Sometimes, she joined their gaze.

Even though she tries to distract herself by focusing all her energy on the project, after some time, Gwen realizes that she feels the presence again. It's some ways away, thankfully, but it is there, like a light on the edge of her peripheral vision. She suddenly regrets not taking the dragon shaped key with her. She tries her best to ignore the feeling, like a gaze is set upon her person, and eventually feels she is successful.

The darkness that night brings does not stop their first day on the site. The spotlights they brought with them are turned on just when their work can no longer continue. They take a break and set up a small area a short distance away to eat dinner. Gwen offers to let them eat inside the house, but the interns are unwilling to stay away from the ruins for too long. Gwen takes it as a sign of persistence and good work ethic. She takes note to mention it to the professor. Ben, one of the younger interns, starts a small campfire to cook up a pot of stew his mother had sent to the whole group.

They each set up a folding chair by the fire and settle down. Gwen somehow finds herself between Tess and Lance. They play a word game to pass the time. When dinner is finished, they spend close to three more hours working the site, slowly moving unwanted rocks and debris. Gwen's eyes would occasionally fall on the doorway that still stands by the side of the tower. But her eyes never linger long.

By the time their work is at a solid standstill, Gwen's muscles ache and she can tell the other interns are tired and sweaty. With her go-ahead, they start to pack up. Nathan, another intern, whistles a silly tune for them to work to, which amuses the girls. Once the lights were shut off and all unnecessary supplies were returned to their cases, they all start to make their way out of the forest, Gwen taking up the end of the line.

Just as they cross the edge of the forest where the trees thin, fireflies appear and flit about them. Even Gwen has to gasp at the sight of the lake, its surface dotted with shimmering lights. There must be hundreds of them.

Gwen doesn't realize that she's stopped until she feels yet another gaze on her. She turns her head and sees all but one of the interns had continued ahead toward the house. Lance had fallen back and was now staring at her. She wouldn't be able to tell otherwise if not for the fireflies that occasionally illuminate his face. _Longing._

She feels a blush flood her face and reach her ears. "I'll be there in a moment, sorry. Got distracted by the bugs."

She tries to force the amusement into her voice to hide the obvious fact that she was flustered and uncomfortable by his gaze. Lance just nods and walks away, not another word spoken.

She says goodbye to the interns and tells them to all get a good night's rest at the inn. Once back inside the cool confines of Carhaise House, she is surprised how sleep beckons her. She doesn't fear the sleep that comes once she's settled herself in bed. Nor the dreams that come with it.

_Heat. The sensation she feels is heat. It is not the type of heat associated with fire, no. Not the feeling of fire against skin. No, this is a different type of burning. It is an ache that consumes her, that buries itself to the hilt, that pulls out her breathe like a whisper on her lips. She aches and feels the heat travel first from the bottom of her belly, further down, down, to settle between her legs. And for a while, that is where it stays. Until she feels his hands on her. The touch so gentle that it barely registers in her foggy mind. And then suddenly the heat is everywhere, waves of it reaching her toes, which curl against linen sheets, and then up her spine, which arches with every movement they make. She's tossing her head, feeling the perspiration that settles on her skin, sees the candlelight play and shimmer across his own beautiful skin as he moves. Her hand is gripping, grasping onto the blonde strands at the base of his head and she wonders only for a moment how wonderful it is for her dream to be so real, so vivid, that she can even feel how the strands are damp, how his sword hand is calloused in just the right place, how she can feel it splayed against her bare hip, how his golden lashes stick together with wetness. How they flutter open and how his remarkably blue irises, dilated with desire, lock onto hers at just the right moment. _

Once again, Gwen wakes up with sweat dripping off her nose. But the feeling of euphoria is still present in her system, her extremities tingling and making her sigh. Her whole body is comfortable, sated. She can still feel muscles that haven't been used in months, twitching in memory of what had transpired, no matter how imaginary it was. Her breathing is erratic, and she has to trouble herself to think of anything other than her dream, to calm her breathe. Her physical exhaustion overtakes her mind and she falls back to sleep in a wink. She sleeps deeply through the rest of the night.

* * *

"You shouldn't waste your energy on such pranks, sire."  
"Why, hullo, Merlin. Saw that, did you?"  
"Not everything. My link with her isn't as strong as yours. But I got the gist of it. That was quite evil on your part."  
"I don't know what you're talking about. She was the one who dreamt it."  
"You know he's only there to protect her."  
"I do. I just wanted to give her a little...reminder. A gift, frankly."  
"Sure, you did. If she knew, she'd kill you."  
His chuckle is distant, wavering. "I know. I promise I'll behave from now on."  
"I'll keep you to your word, sire." Merlin pauses, knowing his energy was soon up. The communication with Arthur was always difficult for him. "Not much longer now, Arthur."  
"I know. I can feel it too."

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A.N. There was the teeniest bit of GwenxLancelot there, just to acknowledge it, and I assure you guys that's all there will be. Hope you guys enjoyed my first attempt at dream-smut. And don't worry, non-dream-smut sexeh tiems are on the horizon. Depending on how much I can get done before work tomorrow, I'll probably have another chapter up tomorrow. Love you all xLou


	15. Chapter 13 - The Grant

So this is basically the calm before the storm. Hope you enjoy.

x Lou

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin. Nope nope nope.

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For the first time in ages, Gwen's alarm clock wakes her. She shuffles out of bed, preparing for her day, in a daze. The dream is still fresh on her mind, even after hours of sleep. Throughout her morning routine, showering, brushing her teeth, untangling her hair, she would occasionally catch herself smiling in memory. She tries to distract herself by making a hearty breakfast and a pot of coffee. She's half way through cooking up some bacon and eggs when the doorbell rings. She quietly pads to the door, tightening the belt on her robe. Seeing through the frosted glass that it was a delivery woman, she opens the door, signs the clipboard that is handed to her, and takes the legal envelope from the smiling woman. Gwen waves goodbye before closing the front door with a click.

The envelope has her university's seal watermarked on the front. It is remarkably thick for a simple letter. Gwen returns to the kitchen to pull the now cooked bacon and eggs off the stove. She pours herself a cup of coffee and sips at it before taking a knife and opening the letter. Inside is a series of letters from different department heads, including Professor Kilgarrah, formally declaring that they are backing the project at Castlequin. A final letter from the Grant Committee states that the check she is receiving is one of 5 that will be given to her over the course of the next year to be used as she saw fit, for the project and for compensation of use of her land. Gwen has to shakily set her coffee cup down and lean against the counter when she sees the size of the check.

Knowing she has to be at the library in less than two hours, and without her car, Gwen shovels the rest of her food into her mouth, and practically skips upstairs to get ready.

She chooses a pair of green shorts that are cuffed just above her knees, a light gray tank top that is loose and light, and a blue button down shirt which she puts in her bag instead of wearing. She knows the walk is going to be sweltering and she doesn't want to arrive at work with sweat stains. She takes her hair, now only slightly dry and curling around her face and at the very ends, and braids it down her back. Hopefully the remaining moisture will keep the back of her neck cool while she walks. She also packs a pair of simple black flats, intending on wearing her hiking boots for her walk and changing when she arrives in town.

Gwen gets into town with close to 45 minutes to spare. She was grateful of the breeze coming off the ocean, the salt in the air hitting her senses and waking her up further. She takes the extra time to deposit her check at the bank and then stops by the local furniture shop to check if the armoire she had been eying was still on display. She almost scares the woman at the counter with her giddiness, when she orders the armoire. While she's there, she also purchases a simple vanity set for herself. She was tired of doing her hair and makeup at the bathroom sink, having all her supplies fall off the thin rim. She sets up a time for the delivery men to drop off her new furniture, assuring the sales woman that she would be back again soon.

Lee greets her with a kind smile and a wave when she arrives at work right on time. Gwen smiles back a happy grin and goes to the back room to clock in and change into her shirt and flats.

The next couple weeks go by without incident.

Gwen works at the library almost every other day, and works with the interns at the dig on the opposite days. Professor Kilgarrah shows up and is soon a bubbling ball of energy, excited and hard to keep up with. But eventually, he hands over a lot of the responsibility to Gwen, only stopping by to check out what the interns unearth.

Their discoveries are few and far between. Gwen's door is actually at the very top of a winding stairwell that skims the edge of the tower. They discover that the tower is actually only the top section of an even taller tower, which is been buried under layers and layers of earth. Using a radar system, they find three very large rooms deep underground, seemingly encased with soil, but hallow inside. Gwen and the other interns are anxious to unearth the smallest room, hoping to find millenia old relics preserved inside.

Gwen also finds a way to take the dragon key with her at all times, fashioning a necklace out of the key and a long ribbon. It settles against her chest just below her bust line, underneath her shirt. Every time she's alone on site, she thinks to try the key in the door again, but always stops herself at the last moment.

Gwen becomes close to Tess, out of all the interns. The small girl is vibrant and silly and when she finds a particular set of stonework to unearth, she gets highly focused, which Gwen admires. Lance is continuously quiet with everyone, no matter how Gwen and the others try to get him to talk. After a while, they accept his quietness.

Sometimes they would set up camp so they could continue digging the next morning bright and early. When it rained, Gwen would insist on having the interns stay at the house, camped out in the living room and the empty guest room on cots and in sleeping bags.

With the grant money, Gwen orders new research equipment for everyone first. She particularly likes the industrial style tents that protect the sections they've unearthed. She also insisted on having a dinner once a week at the house, sharing the responsibility of cooking with one or two of the other interns. One night, David cooks them all an authentic Korean meal. It was the least Gwen could do for the students, knowing that they would otherwise be going home to eat instant ramen after a long days work. Dinner night becomes a tradition for them, and even Lance seems to enjoy himself.

With her paychecks Gwen stockpiles her fridge with food and wine. She fills the greenhouse with tall flowers, lilies, hydrangeas, sunflowers, tall green grasses, and succulants. She also starts up a mini vegetable garden filled with tomatoes, kale, string beans, and carrots. She frequents the flea market and soon has the study half filled with a mixture of the classics and archaeology texts. The guest bedroom gets furnished with a trundle bed that would be more comfortable for the interns when they stay. A comfy chair for reading is added in the living room. Gwen does not dare get rid of her beaten old couch, though.

Gwen still dreams, and sometimes nightmares break through, but she does not faint again. When she is on site, she comes to expect the presence that hides just beyond her vision, finds it a constant and calming force.

Merlin does not approach her again. She thinks she sees him when she works in town, sometimes catches his beaten leather jacket when she's picking up fish from the market, but his form is gone before she can turn her head or call out. She stops in at Le Fay's Apothecary every once and a while, to pick up some lavender and basil soap or some oil for her sun-damaged hair. Morgan's reaction every time she walks through the shop door is the same. She would smile, give a little wave, but would otherwise find some other project while Gwen stops by. At times, she thinks Morgan purposefully avoids her.

The last week of summer is humid and hot and the project is still far from finished. Gwen gets the call from the doctor in Killarney and is surprised to find there is nothing physically wrong with her. Frustrated that she was at a dead end yet again, Gwen resolves to stick with was was working before. If she fainted again, she would return to the doctor.

The following Sunday is quiet and rainy. Gwen stays in bed for most of the morning. Her dreams the night before were filled with dancing and her head is still spinning when she wakes. For what seems like hours, Gwen watches the rain fall against her window, cherishing the scent of rain in the air that fills her bedroom. The doorbell ringing jolts her out of her revelry.

Confusion sets in when she walks down the stairs, seeing the form in the frosted glass.

"Elyan?"

She opens the door and smiles at her brother, who is wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, which are dotted with rain. He nods at her when she steps aside to let him in, without smiling. He walks right past her, into the living room, looking around at the new furniture and knick knacks Gwen had positioned on the mantle and bookcases. His silence was unnerving.

"Elyan, what's wrong?"

His grunted response disappears with him when he veers into the dining room. She follows behind him, stopping to lean against the doorway. Her brother runs throughout the house, through the sun-room and even tearing apart her pantry. Gwen starts to get frustrated and annoyed. "Elyan Leondegrance, what the hell are you doing?"

"Where is it?"

"Where is _what?" _

_"Where is the key?" _The voice that thunders through her house is no longer Elyans. Gwen is standing in the dining room when Elyan turns on her. His form is obscured in shadow. A shiver shoots up Gwen's spine. _What was wrong with him?_

He takes heavy steps toward her, slowly, deliberately. He takes off his sunglasses and Gwen has to hold back the scream that bubbles. This is not Elyan.

This man has eyes darker than black, almost a void behind his eyelids. But they move with her every movement, and suddenly Gwen fears for her life. She keeps the dining table between them, fully intending on escaping out the back door. But the Elyan look alike pounces at her, landing on the table in a superhuman leap. Gwen dodges out of the way of his arms clawing at her and ends up in the living room. A crushing force barrels into her, forcing her to the ground painfully. He has her pinned, her body squirming and her throat aching from her screams, up until he forces a harsh hand over her mouth. She smells blood. He gets close to her ear, hissing into it. The voice that leaves his mouth is demonic, dripping with poison.

"_Where is it, my queen?_"

Tears escape her eyes, his knees are digging into her sides, and she knows there will be bruises. The large hand that holds both her wrists above her head tightens its grip so hard that Gwen is sure her wrists will break. She forces herself to go limp, waiting for the right moment. Because the fear she felt earlier has been replaced with complete and total rage.

Her plan works, the stranger loosening both hands on her. The first thing she does is bite down on his hand, forcing all her strength into the action. He cries out and then her other hands are free. With a great cry, she sends them flying at his head, clawing and hitting and pushing him backwards. Quick as lightening she's wriggled out of his grip and shoots upward. She lands a kick to his ribs, the force she puts into it satisfying, and it sends him backwards, where he hits his head against the brick hearth. Gwen thinks it will be enough to sprint to the kitchen and retrieve her trusty knife, but the stranger is up and lunging at her in less than a blink. His hand makes its way around her neck, squeezing, lifting her into the air. His face is contorted in rage and sadistic pleasure at how she gasps for air.

He doesn't see her reach for the key around her neck, or maybe he thinks that she's just clawing at where his hand connects with her windpipe.

Therefore, he doesn't see the key until it's shoved into his skull with tremendous force.

Gwen gasps for air when the hand disappears. She falls to the ground and tries to crawl away from where the stranger had fallen. She has to blink multiple times, trying to determine if she was hallucinating what was in front of her. The stranger that had crumpled to the ground was now slowly dissolving, like the Wicked Witch of the West, it's skin and bones turning to dust. After a few moments, the key clattered to the floor. Gwen was once again alone.

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A.N. Really wanted to see Gwen kick ass, so I got Gwen to kick ass. Another chapter will be up tomorrow :)


	16. Chapter 14 - The Foe

Sorry, guys, for not getting this up like I wanted. I ended up rewriting it about 3 times when I wasn't working. But better late then never! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin!

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Gwen sits against the wall, shaking, in the front hallway, the blue-gray light from the storm outside glowing through the front door window. She tries to catch her breathe, tries her best to control the sobs.

It takes a good ten minutes to calm herself. She gains the courage to look over her shoulder, around the door jam, and into the living room. The small pile of ash lays just where it did moments before. She tries to focus her mind, tries to figure out a plan. She goes through the options she has now.

There was no way what had just transpired was normal, or at most a hallucination. No way the person she killed was Elyan.

Getting up on shaky legs, Gwen goes upstairs to retrieve her phone. She hurriedly dials Elyan's cell, more and more anxious with every ring. She hangs up immediately when it turns over to his voice-mail. She tries his flat and then the metal shop, receiving no answer. Frustrated, she calls Elena, and even Georgia, but neither of them had seen or heard from him in weeks. This would normally not worry Gwen on any other day, Elyan was always very independent in nature, but the phone-call to the metal shop received the same result. She is about to call the police when she realizes how crazy she would sound. Her brother attacked her and then turned into a pile of ash? They'd probably arrest her right there.

Gwen flusters about for a moment, frustrated and with no one to turn to. She runs a hand over her hair and then over her neck where she knows bruises are slowly growing.

She comes to a realization and is almost angry at her thought. But there's no other choice now. She has to call Merlin.

Gwen runs upstairs, finding her shorts in the laundry hamper, the ones she wore on the train. She pulls out the little crumpled piece of paper and starts to dial the number. But she stops. Gwen stares down at the paper, the paintbrush-like scrawl causing something to flash in her memory banks.

It takes a solid minute of pacing and mumbling for her to realize what had stopped her. She curses loudly all the way down the stairs to the kitchen, stomping down the hall. She practically rips off the note that's attached to the fridge.

In one hand, she holds Merlin's note he gave her on the train. In the other, the note Mr. Emrys had left for her on the first day she moved in, and the phone number he had scrawled in the corner of it, in case she needed anything. They were the exact same handwriting. And the exact same number.

"That...wanker!" She shouts to no on in particular, throwing the pieces of paper onto the kitchen island. No wonder I had never actually met Mr. Emrys.

Gwen groans, stomping around the kitchen, pacing, and altogether going on a tirade. Thoughts stream through her head in a jumble. What was she going to do now? To what extent was Merlin involved with Carhaise House? Who was she to turn to?

She throws herself into her reading chair in the living room, silently steaming as the rain falls steadily outside. She sees the pile of ash and has to squeeze her fists together to subdue her gag reflex. She runs to the kitchen, pulls out a broom and dustpan, and angrily sweeps up the living room floor. She even takes an extra measure to pull out some floor cleaner. When she is done, she takes a long shower, scrubbing every inch of her light brown skin, but paying careful attention to her neck. She returns to the living room, hair dripping and skin slightly pink and raw. She closes her eyes and still sees the pile of ash. When she opens them again, there is only the key, laying at the foot of the couch.

Gwen pads over to it, holding it in her palm. She reattaches the ribbon and hangs it around her neck, only feeling a slight twinge where it hits the bruise on the side of her neck. She sees the movement on her porch just before the doorbell rings for a second time that rainy Sunday morning.

Gwen immediately goes into defense mode, grabbing the iron fire poker from the hearth. She slowly looks around the corner into the front hallway and sees a dark figure standing on the opposite side of the door.

"Who is it?" Gwen shouts, safely away from the door. The figure shifts.

"Guinevere? It's me. Morgan."

Gwen inches toward the door slowly. She carefully turns the handle, bending her knees in case the door is shoved open. She opens it just a crack, looking out. Morgan stands on the opposite side, and their eyes meet. Morgan takes a step backward, seeing the wariness and concern on Gwen's face. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

Gwen looks Morgan up and down, gripping the poker harder behind her. She's wearing a dark rain-jacket, hands in her pockets, the hood pulled up over her dark mane of hair, and a pair of plum colored wellingtons, spattered in mud. She must have walked all the way to Carhaise House in the rain. Gwen looks up into alarmed green eyes, searching for any change, any blackness that doesn't belong.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Can I help you?" Morgan shifts again, fidgeting on the porch.

"Might I come in?"

Gwen narrows her eyes at Morgan through the crack in the door, trying to read the look on the woman's long and regal face. What was she playing at?

Gwen shook her head hesitantly. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea." Gwen starts to close the door, but Morgan holds out a manicured hand out to stop it. The gesture is gentle but firm.

"Gwen?" Morgan's brows furrow, peering down at Gwen's neck. "Gwen, were you attacked?"

Gwen stalled, faltering. The need to find someone to talk to about her ordeal was overwhelming. Gwen steps back, pushing open the door for Morgan. Seeing the iron rod in Gwen's other hand, Morgan raises an eyebrow, and somewhere in her expression, Gwen sees the hint of amusement.

"If it will make you feel safer, I promise to keep my distance. But we still need to talk."

Gwen then steps aside, making sure Morgan sees her armed hand grip the iron rod harder.

"What about?"

Morgan respectfully pulls off her muddy boots, lifting them up in question. Gwen opens up the door to the sun-room. A waterproof mat sits by the doorway, where a pile of muddy sneakers and boots lay. Morgan adds hers to the pile and hangs up her jacket on one of the hooks on the wall. She then walks out in front of Gwen and into the living room, putting great distance between them. She stops in front of the fireplace, looking around at the tall windows, the framed posters on the wall, the throw that lays on the arm of the sofa. But unlike the stranger who was looking through Gwen's living room with the intent on finding something, Morgan looked like she was just admiring.

"You did an amazing job with the place, Gwen." Gwen places the iron rod against the wall next to her leg, crossing her arms and glaring steadily at Morgan.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Morgan sobered, her face becoming stern and calm.

"Someone attacked you, didn't they? Or rather, something? Something disguised as someone you know? Someone you love?"

Gwen raises an eyebrow, and then slowly nods her head. Morgan starts to swear wildly, running a hand over her head. She paces, looking back and forth at Gwen's face and the floor, mumbling the whole time.

"How did you know?"

Morgan stops, staring at the bruise on Gwen's neck.

"Because of a prophecy."

Gwen narrows her eyes skeptically. _Is this going where I think it's going?_

"Gwen, I know Merlin came to talk to you."

"Oh, not this shit again." Gwen erupted, stomping towards the kitchen, Morgan following her at a safe distance. "Forgive me, I need a drink."

"Gwen, you need to listen. You need to listen to him."

"Why the fuck should I?"

"Because you know things are going to get worse from here on. You are in grave danger!"

"I can handle myself, Miss Morgan. And anyway, how is it any of your business? You are not my friend. In fact, last I remember, you've been avoiding me."

"That was for your own good."

"My own good? How in the hell- I just want to live a normal life. I just want to live in my house protected from demons in the shape of family members. I want to be able to sleep at night without dreaming of people I don't know and places I've never been."

"He has the answers."

"What answers? What are you going to tell me next? That magic is the answer?"

Morgan is silent, which is enough for Gwen. "Oh, not you too! What are you going to tell me next, y-you can do magic too?"

The shrug and twitch of her eyebrow confirmed everything. Gwen just scoffs and walks out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

"Gwen! Things are not as they appear. Your house was built on land that has been long connected with magic. You can't deny you feel it."

"But what does Merlin have to do with it? How do you know him? Wait, did you know he was masquerading as my caretaker? Because that is so incredibly low..."

"Found that out, did you? I told him it was risky. But you know he's really stubborn." Gwen rubs a hand over her face, nodding.

"I know."

"Merlin was an old friend. But he can be trusted. And he can help you with the dreams." Morgan stares out the window into the greenhouse. "Gwen, he doesn't know I'm here. He doesn't know I'm talking to you."

"Then why are you?"

"I first came here to just chat. But when I saw you were attacked..."Gwen sits down and rubs absentmindedly at her bruise. "Gwen, we need you."

"I don't understand. Need me for what?" Morgan sits across from her at the dining room table.

"What I'm about to tell you, is very strange, to say the least." Gwen sits back, crossing her arms in defense, but otherwise settling down.

"I'm listening."

Morgan sits for a while, fingers fiddling and mouth opening and closing. She is trying to find the correct words, Gwen figures.

"You...um...you have been reincarnated."

Gwen frowns, incredulously. "What."

"You...were once a Queen. Of a kingdom called Camelot. Camelot has since fallen, but your house...and the kingdoms ruins, remain on the land."

"I don't believe you."

"You dream sometimes. Sometimes it's simple, you're walking through a forest. Other times, you dream of fighting a battle, with a sword. Or cooking a meal by a fire. Or dancing in a ballroom."

Gwen suddenly can't speak. Her tongue is lead, her head abuzz. Morgan lowers her chin, tilting her head, searching Gwen's warm brown eyes for a sign. "You dream about him, don't you?"

Gwen abruptly stands up, returning to the kitchen. Morgan starts to object, but Gwen holds a finger up at her. "Give me a second. I need to think."

She stalks around the kitchen island, rubbing her wrists and arms. "So...you're saying...the ruins I've been studying? Castlequin? Was part of a kingdom? That I ruled?"

"Well. Yes."

Gwen shakes her head, her still damp curls swaying with the movement. "This is ridiculous. What does that have to do with someone impersonating my brother and trying to kill me? For a stupid key?"

"That's just it. There's something else out there that wants nothing more than to see you dead. There is a prophecy-"

"What prophecy?!"

Gwen throws her hands up in frustration. Nothing was making sense to her anymore. And her resolve was slowly dissolving.

"Guinevere. Please. Talk to Merlin."

Gwen sits for a long time, contemplating. It seems like hours later when she finally opens her mouth again.

"Were we friends once? I mean, back then?"

Morgan looks alarmed at first, but her cool green eyes are suddenly filled with regret and sadness. "Yes. Yes, we were."

Gwen nods. "I felt it. The first moment I met you." She leans forward, folds her arms onto the top of the table. She then drops her head, heavy and tired, onto them, leaning her cheek on her forearm. "Do you want to call Merlin, or shall I?"

Morgan pulls her phone out and goes to the living room to make the call, leaving Gwen to her thoughts. What am I doing? Why am I going along with this?

In the back of her mind, there is a tickling feeling, an answer just on the edge of her thoughts. Because there's nowhere else to go, but forward.

When Morgan returns, Gwen is in the greenhouse, running a watering can over her flowers and plants, listening to the thundering of the rain against the glass above her head. Morgan stands in the doorway, watching, but only for a moment.

Morgan steps down into the greenhouse, Gwen jumping slightly. "Are you going to be okay?"

Gwen looks over her shoulder, knowing that Morgan can see the trails of wetness where tears had fallen shortly before. "I think I will be. I hope I can trust you. Hell, I hope I can trust him."

"May I ask, what changed your mind?" This was not Morgan's voice. Gwen spins around, her watering can tumbling and clattering in a watery mess.

Merlin stands in the doorway next to Morgan, wearing jeans and his beaten leather jacket. His hair is dripping wet, looking like a lost puppy. Gwen can't seem to choose whether to slap him across the face or to wrap him up in a warm blanket and force him to drink a whole mug of hot chocolate. She stands taller, facing the two people in the doorway with as much courage as she can muster.

"Because I'm tired of living two lives. I'm tired of seeing things I shouldn't. _Feel_ emotions that I never should. Missing people I've never seen before! I just want _answers_." Gwen holds out her hands, palms up, a sign of defeat as well as peace and acceptance. Merlin and Morgan share a look.

"If you are ready." Gwen sighs but nods, completely sure. Merlin nods at both of them, going to leave. "I will need to gather the knights."

Gwen falters. "Knights?"

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A.N. A lot of questions were asked during this chapter. Lots will be answered the next. Said chapter will hopefully be up before I work tomorrow D: Love you all and thanks for reading xLou


	17. Chapter 15 - The Prophecy

Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry it's been a while since I last updated. I just started my new job and haven't had a day off until today. (good news is they've already asked me to be an assistant manager hardee harhar) As penance, I have three new chapters for you! Whoo! Happy reading! x Lou

Disclaimer: I don't own Merrliiinn.

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Gwen sits quietly in the greenhouse in the one patio chair she owns, her arms lazily resting on the slightly rusted arm of it. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply until her inhale and exhale develop a rhythm similar to the rhythm of the rain on the panes of glass above her head. The humidity in the air is soothing to her lungs and throat. She listens carefully, picking out every noise and every movement. Morgan was in the kitchen, puttering about, making tea. She was humming a soft tune, something that reminded Gwen of a celtic tune. Gwen can smell a faint scent of strawberries in the air. Morgan must have found the carton of berries she was saving in the fridge.

Merlin had been gone for a while. An hour? Maybe less? Gwen couldn't tell. The last time she had felt so hollow, her mind so silent and calm, was on the train-ride to the boarding school her stepmother had shipped her off to. The one right after the accident. Gwen lifts her hand to her head in memory, sinking her fingers into the mess of curls on the right side of her head. Her fingers graze over the curving scar, the one that puckers slightly under her gentle fingertips. The one hidden underneath the tangle of hair on her head.

There is a flash of lightening, the bright blue tinted light illuminating the whole greenhouse. Gwen feels the brightness behind her closed eyes. Her head is heavy, her weariness increasing. She feels the need to sleep, a dark inkiness creeping in on the edge of her vision. She feels the ghost of hands on her neck, the wrenching feeling in her chest, the inability to breathe, and forces her eyes open, to push the memory away.

Morgan walks in, tray of biscuits, berries, and piping hot tea. She seems to pointedly avoid Gwen's gaze. There is an unspoken agreement, the conversation hanging in the air between them that they refuse to have. What was about to happen was a mystery. And they weren't about to talk about it. Instead, Gwen revels in the quiet and secretly thanks Morgan for avoiding the conversation as well.

Morgan sets the tray on the small table next to Gwen. She feels the heat from the kettle on the edge of her arm. The smell is heavenly, waking Gwen up more and more with every whiff. Gwen turns her head, watching as Morgan pours the tea out into a cup. Its honey colored, something herbal.

Morgan helps Gwen curl her fingers around the small ceramic cup, the cool fingers of the otherwise imposing woman welcome against Gwen's fingers.

The hot tea soothes Gwen's throat even more, warming her belly. Mint, lavender, and a hint of lemon. It wasn't until her stomach grumbles that Gwen realizes she hadn't eaten all day. She slowly nibbles on a couple of biscuits while Morgan walks around the greenhouse, her humming filling the empty space between them. Another flash of lightning from outside casts Morgan's regal form into silhouette. Her chin is lifted, long neck twisting as she turns towards Gwen.

Gwen looks up into the green eyes, something passing over them that Gwen cannot comprehend. Worry?

A sharp knock on the glass door behind Gwen makes her jump, almost dropping the cup in her hand, hot tea spattering on her lap. She turns around in her seat, looking out through the rain speckled door.

The cup ends up crashing to the floor anyway.

The five drenched men who pile into the now cramped greenhouse. Merlin leads the way as the four others stomp off their muddy boots one by one on the mat just outside the door.

There's Lee, Gwen's boss from the library, a dark hooded sweater pulled over his head, the blonde curls darkened from the rain. Gwaine, Merlin's flirty friend from the train, stumbles in whilst shaking big fat drops of rain from his floppy hair like a wet dog. Peter has to duck slightly in the doorway, his head covered by a soaked baseball cap. And finally, Lance, the quiet intern, steps inside, hands in his jean pockets. Gwen stares, open mouthed, and watches, mesmerized, as a drop of rain rolls down his nose and falls to the stone floor.

Merlin comes to stand next to Gwen's seat, on her left, hands curled in the pockets of his raindrop laden leather jacket. The other four men stand, if not with slight awkwardness, in a semi-circle, in front of her. As if they were to be appraised, inspected by her. Their expressions are constant among all of them, wariness with a hint of shame.

Gwen searches every one of their faces. They are expectant, waiting for her reaction. They look at her like she's about to lash out, like they have any reason to feel guilty. And Gwen rises, eyes squinting at each one of them, anger once again bubbling up in her chest. They are correct in their assumption. She feels betrayed and frustrated. Angered that these people have been implanted into her life like spies. How much of her life has been handled, guided into a pre-existing plan?

"Merlin? Where's Elyan?"

Gwen looks up at Merlin's profile, the blue gray light from the window on the other side of him obscuring is features. Morgan's voice echoes in her head, the question hanging in the air. He looks pained, and suddenly Gwen knows something is wrong.

"I couldn't find him."

Gwen's hands clench harder around the arms of the wrought iron chair she sits in. "What do you mean? How do you know my brother? What does he have to do with all this?"

Merlin finally turns toward her, his eyes sad and his strength waning. But Gwen knows he won't lie to her. He crouches so they are both at eye level, and rests a long hand on hers. His eyes shine a indescribable blue, and Gwen can see he is wordlessly asking for her trust. She feels the slight tremor in where the tips of his fingers lay gently across the back of her hand.

"The thing that attacked you. It looked like him, didn't it?" Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen sees Morgan nod her head fervently. "I went to his flat. The metal shop. He hasn't been seen for a while."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Morgan's voice is hushed, and Gwen is made aware of how her presence has affected the other men in the room. Each one eyes her warily, Peter even folds his arms across his chest, actively glaring. The others stiffen and murmur amongst themselves.

Merlin is speaking again, and Gwen has to zone back in on him to realize what he is saying.

"Unfortunately, yes. Gwen?" Gwen looks back at the man kneeling beside her. His face, all angles and sharpness contrasting his soft expression and wisdom aged eyes. The look of pity is mirrored on everyone else in the room. "Time is running short. We have to get the spell broken now, or else they will find you."

Gwen bristles, the anxiety and anger she feels pooling in her stomach arising once again. "Who are you talking about? Who will find me?"

Morgan takes a step forward, extending a long arm to the floor and picking up the discarded teacup. She looks at Merlin, and the two share a look, a whole conversation passing between the two, if Gwen assumes correctly. "You need to tell her."

"She needs to know the truth." Peter straightens, lifting his square jaw and jutting it forward. He seems reluctant to agree with Morgan.

"Merlin?" Lance's voice rumbles, startling Gwen. "Why not let Morgan give her the prophecy before we break the spell?"  
Merlin looks over his shoulder, and Gwen can practically see the gears turning in his head, the reluctance to agree with the inevitable. And Gwen's stubbornness breaks through, motivating her. She pulls her hand out from under his, placing it gingerly against his upper arm. He turns, slightly startled, eyes searching her own.

"You want me to trust you? Trust you all?" She stares down each and every one of them, finding with a small bit of pleasure that each one of them slink back slightly at her sharp gaze. "Then you need to answer my questions. If this...prophecy? If it's going to give me the answers I want? Then I ask you to trust me. I need to know what exactly it says."

"My lady, you must realize. You may not understand it." Lee croaks. "Hell, none of us do, and we have our memories."

Gwen turns her gaze toward Lee, setting her jaw and frowning. "Please, don't call me that. I'm just...Gwen."

The men share embarrassed glances, flustered, and Morgan looks pleased, a hint of a smile on her red lips.

"How is this going to work then?" She stares into Merlin's eyes, silently pleading with him, and another flash of lightning illuminates the room. The flash lasts longer than she expects, the light burning her eyes, and the greenhouse disappears.

_The battlefield is finally quiet. The remaining fires are slowly going out with the onslaught of rain that had washed over the dead and dying. Her breathing is labored, the pain she had received from that final blow dissipating with every breathe. Numbness engulfs her, her body shutting down. _

_Her thoughts are scattered, jumbled. Sadness? That it had to end this way. Fear of the unknown. Heartbreak that she will never see her friends' faces again. But there it is, the slow relief that washes over her, after all these years of loneliness. The flow of happiness that falls around her, as her tears mix with the rain. She will finally see him again. She welcomes the darkness then, wishing it would go by sooner, faster, quicker. She is so entranced in her slow death that she doesn't hear the thundering footsteps, doesn't hear her name being called by a raspy voice, shouting in anguish. From her position amongst the rubble and the dead, she stares up at the gray sky, waiting for the life to finally drain from her breathe. Her vision is suddenly obscured by the face of her best friend, crouching over her. His dark lashes clump together with tears, the sobs racking his body as his lanky form crumples to her side. He pulls her broken body up, holding her in place, pushing away her graying hair away from her battered face, begging for her to stay with him. _

_"Why did you do it? Why, Gwen? I told you to stay in the castle."_

_She doesn't quite remember what she says in response, but knows she whispers back to him, whispers her acceptance, her thanks. But his anguish lingers._

_"Not you too. I have failed you both. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me."_

_She takes the rest of her energy, knowing her time is finally up, to place a bloodied hand on his cheek, reveling in the sharp cheekbone, the kinship she has created with him sitting in her heart. She will take it with her. She sighs a breathe of forgiveness. Her final image is of his blue eyes, brighter than the summer sky, promising her that they will meet again._

Gwen blinks, staring at Merlin's face. His dark brows are furrowed together, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"What just happened?" Gwaine's widened eyed look of confusion as he leaned over Merlin's shoulder would have been slightly amusing. If Gwen hadn't just had such a vision. Gwen feels the wetness on her cheeks, and sees how Merlin's own eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Did you-"

"Yeah. I saw it, too. Morgan?" Merlin doesn't look away from Gwen, keeping his eyes trained on hers. Morgan nods, coming to rest on Gwen's right side, kneeling down to settle on her knees. "Time is running out. Much faster than we predicted." He finally turns to look at the dark haired woman, who keeps a calm demeanor. Gwen knows deep down that all Morgan wants to say is I told you so. "Do you think you have the energy to relay the prophecy? Now?"

Morgan nods, turning to catch Gwen's gaze. She boldly reaches out and wipes away the tears on Gwen's face, applying a tender touch that startles Gwen with familiarity. "Don't be frightened. I am going to need you to trust me, if only for a moment."

Gwen loosens her grip on the arms of her chair, letting the tension she feels, the fear, subside. Morgan takes both of her hands in her own, like she did when she began her palm-reading. She closes her eyes, the smokey makeup that is applied to them contrasting starkly against Morgan's pale skin. Gwen tries with all her might to not jump when they open and the pale green orbs turn a bright, blinding, gold. It is still difficult.

The boys clamor in to circle around the other side of the table to see what has Gwen so shocked. The air sizzles again, the energy in the room spiking. Merlin is unaffected, waiting. When Morgan finally opens her mouth to speak, the voice that echoes through the room is ethereal.

_"A love misplaced in time_  
_Unsullied, Avalon's walls will fall_  
_Only when the battles climb_  
_Will power return to all_

_As the noose of time is tauten_  
_An immortal soul unrest_  
_rebuild a land forgotten_  
_A world fallen, ruined, blessed._

_Under a crimson moon_  
_By fire that burns cold_  
_She, the loyal leader, soon_  
_Will be adorned in gold_

_Through scorching hell, she must_  
_Alone, with humble grace_  
_Journey, shake away the dust_  
_Reveal a royal face_

_He, her equal love and power_  
_Search but never see_  
_Only when the deadly cower_  
_United they will be_

_Be warned, thee who fights_  
_Time is a fickle thing_  
_The evil that festers, bites_  
_Deter the return of the king_

_A friend must forsake all trust_  
_A foe return all love_  
_She, all right and just_  
_With friendship rise above_

_Yet with her fiery spirit lie_  
_The fate of her domain_  
_She, the future queen, will die_  
_And Camelot will rise again."_

Once the final stanza leaves Morgan's mouth, her unblinking gold eyes snap shut, and she crumples backward. Merlin catches her just in time, her head within centimeters of hitting the stone floor. Her limp form worries Gwen for a moment, the entire party in the room waiting for her to move.

When Morgan finally stirs, Gwen lets go of the breathe she didn't know she was holding. Morgan opens her eyes, squinting slightly as if in pain. When she realizes that Merlin was holding her up, she jolts out of his reach, as if scalded. But Gwen catches the blush that creeps up the woman's neck.

"Are you alright?" Gwen lifts a gentle hand and places it on Morgan's pale wrist. Morgan blinks rapidly, dazed.

"Yes, I'm okay. Did it work?"

Gwen nods, running the words over and over in her mind, but there is one section that she keeps coming back to. "What does that mean? The queen will die?"

"That's why we're here, my qu- Gwen." Lee utters behind her. "Merlin has prepared all of us to protect you so you can fulfill the prophecy."

"Me? How can I?"

The men all look at Merlin, who has lifted himself from the floor and gone to gaze out toward the forest outside the glass door. He doesn't look at anyone. Gwen can see the sadness and is reminded of the vision she and Merlin had shared.

"Even I don't fully understand what it means." Morgan rubs at her temples from her sitting position on the floor, her words strained. "But the theory is that only you can bring back Camelot. Only you can bring an end to the power that is slowly destroying Avalon."

"Avalon?"

"It's the magical world where souls are sent. The Afterlife, so to speak." Lance affirms. "It's also the birthplace of magic."

Gwen slowly bobs her head up and down, understanding, a golden memory of a place filled with light flashing over her mind. "Merlin? Does a soul have to be magic, or the person have magic, to be in Avalon?"

Merlin turns around, eyeing Gwen with careful eyes. "No."

"Merlin? If I was a Queen. That has to mean there was...a King. Of Camelot. Wasn't there?"

The soft hint of a smile confirms her suspicions before anyone even says anything. _You're figuring it out._

"Yes. There was. His name was Arthur."


	18. Chapter 16 - The Tower Part 3

Chapter 16! Have at it!

Disclaimer: Merlin isn't owned by me. Nope nope nope.

* * *

_You dream about him, don't you?_

Gwen stands up from her chair. Her once shaky limbs are solid, strong. She rises and holds her position, jaw set and mouth pursed. She blinks once and places her hands on her hips.

"Well. Let's do this then."

"What?" Gwaine stutters. "It was that easy? Maybe you should've said his damn name earlier on, Merlin. Would've saved us quite the trouble."

Gwen ignores the outburst. She stares down Merlin, who turns away from the window and puts both hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm length.

"Are you sure? You have to be ready. It will be painful."

Gwen takes a deep breath, letting the warm air fill her lungs and holding it for a moment until they burn. Then she exhales, opens her eyes and with every ounce of courage, confirms that she is. She is ready.

"So how does this work, you point a wand at me and then poof! I have all my memories back?"

The boys snicker behind her and she is glad to see even the slightest amount of amusement shine in Merlin's tired eyes.

"Not quite, Gwen."

* * *

"Why? Why did it have to be here?" Gwen paces, the muddy floor of the forest getting kicked up by her boots.

They are at the ruins of Castlequin. Or perhaps I should call it Camelot? Damn, this is confusing.

The four men, the knights as Merlin had called them, are stationed some ways away in the forest, keeping an eye out. For what, however, Gwen did not know. That leaves Merlin, Morgan, and Gwen alone with the tower rising high overhead. The stone pillar is darkened in the rain, the moss and vines greener than ever. Gwen would otherwise be breathing in the smell of wet earth if she wasn't so anxious to get this over with.

"Question. How is it you both remember? How is it they remember?" She gestures toward the direction that Peter had disappeared in.

Morgan looks at Merlin, who frankly seems at war with himself.

"Well, I regained a lot of my memories after I met Merlin at University. On accident. He didn't quite mean to awaken my previous life. It just...happened." Gwen knows from the way Morgan walks away that she's not telling the whole truth. Like she was in serious denial. But the intimacy in the way Morgan talked told Gwen to hold back imploring more.

"What about you?" Gwen turns on Merlin, who stands by the infamous door, the one she refuses to look at. He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassment playing on his face. He mumbles for a bit, trying to find the correct wording.

"I- I never...I'm uhm," Merlin makes a face, groaning. "I've always had the...memories."

"What do you mean?"

"He's saying, unlike us, he never actually died." Morgan's voice echoes through the clearing. She stands just on the edge of the West pit, the hole that was dug that reveals the entire front face and entrance way of what the interns had interpreted as a conservatory. They were going to finally breach the doors on Wednesday and hopefully find some preserved artifacts inside.

"What do you mean, never actually died?"

"She means I'm immortal."

"And are you? Like...a vampire?" Merlin gives her a look of great disdain.

"I don't kill people or suck blood." Gwen hears Morgan's laugh as she disappears into the pit. "But yes, I am roughly a thousand years old."  
Gwen can't help but let her bubbling chuckle turn into a full blown laugh. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, as she doubles over with her giggles.

"I'm not kidding! That's why I don't look any older than I did when you were 14!"

Gwen snorts, wiping away the tears at her eyes. Merlin just scoffs and, stomping away like a toddler, heads toward where Morgan had climbed into the pit.

"Wait, I believe you! Just...your skin isn't ice cold, is it? Does it sparkle in the sunlight?!"

Gwen stumbles over to the edge of the pit and looks down to where Merlin and Morgan stand, about half a story below. They each look up at her, their stern faces are sobering. Gwen gulps and makes her way down the make-shift steps that lead down to the entrance.

"You have the key on you, don't you?" Morgan asks, although Gwen can tell she already knows. She tilts her head. The door in front of them is much larger than the other door that Gwen has seen. It must be twice its height. But the door-handle matches. It is the same handle. The same lock.

Gwen pulls on the ribbon around her neck, cringing slightly when it nudges the bruise found there. She goes to hand the key to Merlin, but he sidesteps away, gesturing a hand toward the door.

"The last time I unlocked a door with this key, Merlin, I passed out. Is that what's going to happen here?"

Merlin and Morgan look at each other in alarm.

"Jesus, I hope not. I can't break the memory spell if you're unconscious." Merlin murmurs.

"If you do, we'll be here to catch you."

Gwen steps forward then, the rain that had pattered on her rain-jacket hood suddenly gone as she steps into the archway. She pushes the key into place, feeling it click. A perfect fit, once again. "Here goes nothing."

She closes her eyes tight when she pushes the door forward. It's heavy and Gwen has to place all her weight against it to even open it a crack. Merlin and Morgan are suddenly on either side of her, pushing with her. The scent of musty air escapes when they finally get the door open. Gwen opens her eyes, thankful that a fainting spell did not occur.

"What is this place?" She questions, her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the darkness. "It's not a conservatory. Not at all what the other interns predicted."

"This was your throne room."

There is dust everywhere, and judging by the way the room is preserved, the last thing the building must have seen was a battle. Gwen holds a hand over her mouth. There are skeletons, weapons, debris, strewn about the room, all covered in a heavy layer of dust. Rats and other nocturnal bugs skitter about when they approach the end of the hall, where Merlin and Morgan lead her. One throne, the kings, is overturned. The smaller one, the queen's, still stands, but is slightly burnt.

"What happened here?" Morgan steals the question right out of Gwen's mouth. Merlin sadly looks upon the rest of the hall and Gwen can tell that he was trying with all his might not to remember.

"The fall of Camelot."

The sorrow in his voice prompts Gwen and Morgan to share a look, an unspoken agreement not to pester further. Merlin shakes his head, ruffling his hair and smoothing it out. Distractedly, he fixes the other throne, up-righting it. He takes a step backward, waving his hand in one swift motion from left to right. His eyes flash a brilliant gold and the thrones are suddenly clean, their red seat covers shining even in the dim light.

"I'm going to need you to sit, Gwen, please."

Gwen climbs up the steps, pivots on her heel, and after taking a moment to take down her hood, sits down. Morgan's eyes glimmer a strange emotion, and Gwen doesn't have enough time to comprehend before she turns away. Merlin steps up onto the bottom-most stair, that way Gwen and he are at eye level.

"I'm going to say an incantation. I want you to listen to every word. And then I will touch your forehead. Do not be alarmed."  
Gwen fixes her gaze onto the young man's face. In the dim gray light, he looks so much older. He looks worried, his blue eyes looking in to hers, searching, waiting for her response. He is scared.

She nods. Morgan watches from a short distance away, giving Gwen a look of encouragement.

Merlin closes his eyes and starts to speak in a language that Gwen doesn't recognize at first. Latin? She can't be sure. She just lets the words wash over her, listens carefully to the way Merlin's voice commands and roars but still soothes her mind. A glow begins at his fingertips, a warm color, like fire. It increases in intensity until magic flows throughout the entire hall, casting bubbles and rivers of light everywhere. Gwen feels it on her skin, as it caresses and moves through her. It flows through her veins, in her lungs, in her very mind. She wonders then why Merlin warned her that the process would be painful. Because right now the feeling of magic touching her in such a way was indescribable. It was warmth and happiness and pureness that she welcomes with open arms. She never wants to part with it.

Merlin finishes his incantation and his eyes blaze with magic, the gold obscuring his pupils. He touches two fingers to the very center of her forehead.

Gwen doesn't have time to register, to scream, as her head erupts in pain, like a million knives stabbing and tearing into her, before her eyes roll up into the back of her head and she passes out completely.


	19. Chapter 17 - The Journey Part 2

Chapter 17! This chapter was particularly difficult to write. Probably will go back and revise later. In the meantime, Enjoy! x Lou

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Nope, I don't.

* * *

It feels like ages since she has last taken a breath. But she doesn't need the oxygen. She is alone in the nothingness. She doesn't feel anything. Her eyes are closed and she knows she won't be able to see anything anyway. Her thoughts are faded, strung together words that mean nothing. Her mind is a blank page. She wades in the black inkiness for a long time, until her thoughts are strong enough. Strong enough to question and to wonder.

Floating in nothingness becomes a strange sensation. She tries to open her eyes, but the blackness tricks her brain. She can't even tell if she's opened them.

And then the voice breaks through. It was neither masculine or feminine. Or maybe it was both?

"Who are you?"

_Who am I? I don't have a name. I don't know._

"What is your purpose here?"

_Do I have a purpose? I don't know. I don't even know how I came to be here._

"I see. You've lost your way. Do you know where you're headed?"

_I do not. I want something. I wish to return somewhere. But I don't remember where._

"Try. Try to remember, Guinevere. You are the bridge. Without you, we cannot return."

_Guinevere? Is that my name? What a pretty name._

The blackness is suddenly spotted with light, as if the ink is drying up and the light of a thousand stars are illuminating her surroundings. She blinks and feels the rush of coolness to her skin. And then she remembers.

_Her earliest memory is when she was two years old. Her house, the forge, the smell of melted metal in the air, of fire and wood. She hears her mother humming, her fathers uproarious laugh. Her brother pulling her hair, Elyan's hug of apology. _

_She remembers how she held her mother's hand when she passed away in the middle of the night. Not even her father knew. He found little Gwen curled against his wife's cold side in the morning. _

_She remembers learning to deal with the grief by working with her father in the forge, learning every technique and mastering every sword-fighting step he teaches her. She remembers feeling hurt when Elyan runs away soon afterward. _

_She remembers having to look for work at age 9, because the forge wasn't making ends meet. _

_She remembers meeting the young ward of King Uther, Morgana, in the fields behind the castle. They happened upon each other by accident. Gwen had been picking flowers to sell, Morgana had been hiding from the knights, wanting to play out in the sunlight. When Morgana stumbles upon the clearing, Gwen had created a pile of flowers that came up to her little knobby knees. Morgana eyes the pretty commoner, her dark skin glimmering a healthy golden glow in the sunlight. Her mess of dark caramel curls flowing down her back. If not for the smudge of dirt on the other child's nose, and the common peasant dress she wore, Morgana would have taken her for a princess like herself._

_When Gwen turns and sees Morgana, she is taken aback by how the young princess smiles widely at her. She jumps, startled, when she realizes just who was standing in the clearing with her. She apologizes, gives a clumsy curtsy, and bows her head. But the young Morgana just wants to play. _

_They end up making crowns out of the flowers, braiding leftover flower buds in each others hair. They run and giggle and by the time evening falls, they both have mud all over their bare feet. They hear shouting from the end of the clearing, someone was calling out to Morgana. Arthur._

_She remembers how he trips over his own feet when he finds them. She remembers the jolt she feels when the young prince straightens, as if he's not quite used to his own limbs, and scolds Morgana for running off. She remembers feeling invisible to him. He doesn't even look at her. _

_She remembers how thrilled she was that two years later, Morgana picks her to be her hand-maiden. _

_In her place as a maid, she watches them grow. She sees everything that happens in Camelot. She sees how Arthur is pressured to be like his father. At times, she finds him arrogant and much too clever for his own good. Handsome too. But still arrogant._

_Morgana grows to be a beautiful young woman, and at times Gwen is enamored by how she could be friends with such a beautiful woman. _

_Then she meets Merlin and the troubles that follow turn her entire world upside down._

_Her memory of the young warlock is filled with heartache and pain and hope. At first he is an acquaintance, then a friend. They become close. She gives him her first kiss. This memory changes to her first meeting with Lancelot. Leon, Percival, Gwaine, reuniting with Elyan. The knights. And then everything spirals downhill._

_The dragon. Her father dying. Becoming an orphan. Arthur getting injured, almost dying. Morgana's nightmares. Arthur sharing her living space. How he suddenly sees her, looks straight at her, like she was tangible and oh so real. And then he kisses her out of nowhere and the fire that burns within her surges to life. _

_She is a young woman now. Her knowledge of love is limited. But something sparks within her when he kisses her. She brands the memory in her mind, returning to it for the rest of her life. _

_Arthur's life and her own soon intermingle, until their separate destinies intertwine and become one. Every pain he feels, she feels. Every brilliant smile in his blue eyes reflects in her brown ones. Every whisper passed from his lips to hers are soft and fleeting and oh so secret. _

_And when Morgana betrays them all, she feels the pain doubly so. _

_She stands by Arthur as he grows every day. More and more of a King, fighting those that threaten the kingdom. _

_And she accepts his hand. _

_And somehow, some way, she is tricked into betraying him herself. _

_And then she was alone. Alone and pained and forever hating herself. _

_But destiny is fickle that way, and once again she finds herself in his arms when he needs her most. If only for a short time. _

_She becomes Queen and they rule together, they fight together, they love together. _

_Morgana returns and tricks her once again, but her love for her husband is strong and true._

_And then there was Camlann. _

_And her love was torn from her. She never gets to say goodbye. Weeks later, she loses the baby she didn't even know she had._

_She figures out that Merlin is a warlock all on her own. She strives to pay homage to her late husband's closest friend in any way she can._

_For years afterward, she rules alone, a strong and just leader. Over time, she helps create better laws for druids and people with magic. _

_But the other kingdoms don't trust the maid turned Queen._

_The tension builds over a long period of time, dark magic poisoning the leaders whom Gwen had trusted. _

_The war is devastating. Camelot falls. Her people are slaughtered and she has no power to stop it. _

_She rides out in full armor on the full moon, the fires making the orb in the sky bleed a sickening red. _

_She knows she will never return._


	20. Chapter 18 - The Friend

Next chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

* * *

She dreams then, of two different lives, of growing up as two different women. There was Gwen, the scholar, the geek, the young woman of the 21st century, who wears shorts whenever possible, and walks around barefoot. Gwen, the youngest daughter of a broken family. Gwen, who watches her mother die in a vehicle collision, almost dies herself, watches her father remarry. Gwen, the girl married to her job.

And then there is Guinevere, who grows up during a time where her status as a maid was prominent. Guinevere, who witnesses injustice and pain and suffering, who witnesses magic. Guinevere, the Queen, the Ruler, the Mighty.

She dreams of both lives, one second remembering a moment in preschool where her brother steals her game-boy, the other moment, replaying a horse ride through a forest, a lantern guiding her way.

The battle in her mind rages, and what she doesn't know is that she sleeps for days. The toll on her body and mind are much more damaging than they had expected.

And then, one late afternoon, her dreams change. It takes her a long while to realize that the memory she was playing in her mind was from neither her present life or her past.

She stands in the throne room. The dust and debris are gone. But it doesn't look like how she remembers it from her life as Guinevere. The banners are gone. The windows are broken, but no glass lines the floor. It is nighttime, large shafts of moonlight breaking through the windows, casting towers of light across the floor. She stands at the end of the hall, by the doorway. On to t

This is not a memory.

He walks out of the shadows, and Gwen has to hold back a yelp. His face is skeletal, his waxy cheeks sunken with age, malnutrition, illness, Gwen didn't know. His steps are limping, staggered. His dark black curls lie limp. His eyes, cold and piercing, anger morphing his features until they are almost unrecognizable. But Gwen does recognize him.

"Mordred."

"Why, I am surprised to see you here,_ my queen_." His voice is raspy, dripping with poison. He leers at her, showing her his teeth. She finds herself unable to move.

"What do you want, Mordred?"

He takes another limping step toward her, and she starts hyperventilating, fear constricting her rib-cage.

"Oh, don't worry, _my precious sovereign_. I am here to warn you!" He seems pleased with himself, and Gwen can see the madness flash in his icy eyes.

"You mean _threaten me_."

He shakes his head fervently, the dark curls on his head shaking violently. He laughs, the cackle is painful to Gwen's ears. "No, no, no, _my lady_. Never! Never would I threaten you!"

Mordred stalks even closer to her, circling around her paralyzed body, Gwen feels his eyes travel over her entire form. The feeling is so sickening, she wants to gag.

"No, no, my queen, I am here to help you!" He cackles again, closer and closer to her. She feels his breathe on her ear. His tone changes completely, rage shaking his entire body, he practically spits at her. "You are meddling with things you don't understand, my dear."

"I am not _your dear_." She spits back.

He is quiet for a moment, until out of nowhere he bursts into a flurry of cackles and giggles. The sight is unnerving. The cackling continues for far longer than necessary, until it frightens Gwen to the very core.

Mordred zips in front of her mid-cackle, hand sharply latching around her neck. He brings his face close to hers, until their noses brush. Gwen wants nothing more than to run far far away, but an unknown force grounds her entire body. "I only ask one thing. I have a gift I need you to give someone." He takes her chin roughly in hand and forces a wet kiss on her lips. Gwen shakes, wants to scream, fight, rage. But the power that overcomes her then, the blackness that surrounds her, is too quick, too sudden. She is only left with Mordred's sickening voice echoing in her ear.

"Give my regards to Arthur when you dig his lifeless body out of his grave."

She wakes up screaming, clutching at her own neck, her nails biting into her own skin. Merlin is beside her in a blink of an eye, trying to restrain her hands from injuring her neck any further. She struggles, kicking, shifting around on the bed, screaming with all her might. He tries to calm her, tries to get her to look at him, to calm down.

"Gwen! Gwen! It's okay! You're alright! You're safe."

Gwen's screams die down until she's whimpering, knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth. Merlin is half-perched on the chair next to her bed, hands out as if to touch her arm, but he holds back. She focuses all her thoughts on forcing the image of Mordred out of her mind. She applies every technique she knows, placing the memory inside a box and locking it behind a door, focusing on an entirely different memory, focusing on her breathing. In, out, in, out.

Merlin is still by her side when she finally has the strength to look up, sniffling. His blue eyes are strained on her and he looks like he expects her to run at any moment.

She looks at his face, then. Fully. Stares right at it.

This is her friend.

She is momentarily confused, the logic behind her memories struggling to make sense. One life where this man was just a passerby, an acquaintance who happened to be a doctor, who patched up her head when she got injured. Another life where they spend a lifetime of heartache and pain and suffering together. Where they are friends, comrades, accomplices. She remembers holding his hand, hugging his broad shoulders, dying in his arms.

She looks around the room, realizing he must have taken her back to Carhaise house when she fainted.

She reads his face now, memorizing how his dark hair sticks out and how his ears compliment his long face. She sees how he stares at her, waiting, wanting, willing himself to hold back until she's ready. She sees sorrow behind his blue eyes and she sympathizes. For how long has he been alone?

How long has he waited?

He then moves, taking careful and precise movements to stand and kneel by the edge of the bed, closer to her side. He is hesitant, she can see how patient he must have been, waiting for her and his friends to return.

He bows his head, silent, and Gwen suddenly sees the boy she once knew, alone and outcast to the world, sad and hurt.

_He is asking for her forgiveness._

She launches herself at him, surprised at her own strength, practically tackling him. She falls out of bed and wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing him with all her might. He makes a strangled yelp, but otherwise catches her. It takes him a particularly long moment to hug her back. He rests his forehead on her shoulder just as tears begin to fall. She pulls back, resting her hands on the back of his neck.

"Merlin. My friend." She pulls him forward to rest her forehead against his. He closes his eyes, tears falling from beneath his closed lids, and she can see the physical relief wash over his features. He smiles and he looks so much younger.

"It's good to have you back, Gwen." She sniffles and gives a laugh. The laugh hurts, and a new wave of confusing memories wash over her. She cringes.

"Is this how it's always going to be? All these conflicting memories?"

Merlin shakes his head, which causes hers to rock a bit with the movement. "No. You'll be able to differentiate between your past life and your current one soon. Your mind is just at war with itself for now. It takes a little getting used to."

She pulls back, leans the back of her head against the edge of the bed. "I still have so many questions."

Merlin chuckles, the sound so welcome. She smiles with him. "I bet you do. I am an open book. But we should wait until your mind settles."

Gwen raises her head again, sobering up, even though her head still pounds. "No."

Merlin smiles at her, leaning his back against the chair behind him. "What do you mean, no? I'm just making sure you're not overwhelmed."

Gwen shakes her head, frowning. "No, there's something else. I need to discuss it with you before I forget."

"What is it, Gwen?"

"Merlin, Mordred died at the Battle of Camlann, didn't he?"

Merlin tilts his chin upward slightly. He frowns right back.

"Yes. He did."

"I can't figure it out then."

"What can't you figure out?"

Gwen gulps, closing her eyes.

"Why I have a memory of him from neither this life nor my past one."

Merlin adjusts himself so his long legs curl up toward his chest. He rests his arms against his knees.

"That's odd. Are you sure it wasn't a memory from before the battle?"

Gwen nods, silent.

"And you never meant him in this lifetime?"

Gwen sits up straight, opening her eyes again and staring into Merlin's. "Would that be possible?"

Merlin shuts his mouth then, avoiding her gaze. He's said to much. The pain in between her eyes grows as another flurry of images pass through her mind, most of them of Mordred. She fights through the feeling of unease, blinking her eyes in quick succession.

"I need you to tell me now, Merlin. Tell me the truth."

Merlin looks down, nodding. "If there is any point you wish me to stop, you just ask me, okay?"

"Okay."

He searches her eyes then, imploring her to trust him again. This time, she relinquishes all fear.

"I laid you to rest on the anniversary of your coronation. Fifty three years, I believe it was."

Her gasp of pain and her trembling chin almost makes him stop, but she waves a hand at him, encouraging him to continue. The setting sun casts his face in a warm orange light. He looks out the window toward where the sun falls over the horizon.

"I thought I had lost everyone." He drops his head own to rest his chin against his chest. "Gwen, you were a wonderful leader, and your impact on Camelot was greater than anyone could have imagined."

He begins fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, the blue cotton stretching underneath his fingers.

"For years, I watched the rest of my friends and family pass on. Some died in battle. Some of old age. But I was always there. I lived on." He sighs, the breathe coming out in a whisper. "The druids almost died out. The dragons were officially gone. People with magic were few and far between. And then one day the last of the druids, all seven of them, found me. I think it was during the late 15th century. They gave me one last chance. One last chance to set things right."

"How did they do that?"

"They gave me the last remaining magic in the world, sacrificed all they hold dear, all they fought for. To help you.

Together, we sent the souls of Camelot, you, the knights, almost everyone, to be reincarnated in the future. Like a restart button, so to speak."

"But what about-"

"I'll get there. I promise." He touches a finger to the back of her hand. "Unfortunately, something...something went wrong. I don't know what happened. I meant to just send the people unaffected by dark magic. The people who I knew would be able to bring Camelot back to its prime. But the fates are funny that way. Something was sent here with you. An evil no one ever intended to bring back to the world."


End file.
